Right There
by Chloe Masen
Summary: *Sequel to Come Closer* Accepting your place in life–and letting go of all that kept you in the wrong–is a powerful thing. Edward Masen knows this. Knows it with his heart, his soul, his being. Forbidden doesn't exist anymore. 'Can't have' are no longer words in his mind's vocabulary. And were never in his claim's. Isabella is getting everything she's ever wanted. To be his.
1. Chapter 1

**Stephenie Meyer still is, and always will be, the proud owner of Twilight and its characters. Like I am of these and this, no matter how much some think I shouldn't be.**

**And now that that's out of the way... WELCOME! And back. We're a small, intimate group now, I think, but that's okay with me. There's no room here for anything but LOVE.**

**And before we get to that, I'm going to issue a plea of sorts: BEAR WITH ME. Because, while absolutely still the best decision, trying to figure out how and where to start this was NERVE-RACKING. It stressed me out more than anyone could imagine. But what's down below is what I came up with. Just please don't read the first couple of sentences and get frustrated with me and think nothing has changed. I promise it has, and will be different and more and all of those things I said it would before we left you last time. But if you're here to read this, then perhaps you have at least a little faith in me. **

**So, thank you for that. And I now present to you... Right There.**

**Chapter One: Show and Tell**

**Isabella**

"You know, Isabella, if you go blind from staring at that thing, you won't even be able to see the aisle you're so nauseatingly excited to walk down, let alone the unworthy bastard standing at the end of it."

"_Alice_," is all I need to say to shut my brother up. And turn his focus off of me and on to her.

"Damn it, woman, will you stop hitting me?!"

"Maybe someday... but not today. Because today you're annoying your sister."

"She'd have to be paying attention to me for me to do that. And to do _that_, she'd have to stop staring at her hand, which she hasn't stopped doing since she came home with something on it that nearly killed me almost a year ago."

Key word in that? _Nearly_. Which means my brother is still here, alive and well, in all of his annoying glory. And will be somewhere else–if he wants to stay alive and well–to walk me down that aisle he mentioned in just a few weeks. To hand me over to that perfect, beautiful man who will be standing at the end of it. Smiling at me.

Like he's doing now as he walks into our kitchen and sees me staring at my favorite present ever. Again.

But stops doing–like I do–so that he can kiss me. Which is _really _my favorite present... EVER...

And one I get to open every day...

"Hi, Peanut Butter Cup," he murmurs softly, and with that smile back on his lips the second they pull away from mine.

"Hi," I murmur back, ignoring the loud, ANNOYING throat-clearing from somewhere beyond us. And then "Sorry." Because while I was again staring at my stunningly beautiful promise of our future, I was also popping miniature Reese's cups into my mouth like there was no tomorrow at all.

"Sorry for what? Peanut butter is my second favorite flavor."

"Sorry for nothing if you tell me your first," I tell him. _Because I know what it is..._

"My first is the same as all of the other important firsts in my life... _you_."

See why I wanted him to tell me?

"That first better refer to _lips_." Jasper interrupts my swooning, earning him another smack from Alice, a scowl from Edward, and a "Shut up" from me.

But not only. "And worry about your own firsts, and your own lips, and Alice's if you wish, but ONLY, because ours are none of your business."

"The hell they're not. You're not out of this house yet, and as long as you–and your lips–aren't, everything IS."

"It's almost yet, right?" I ask Edward, instead of responding to my brother's inability to let go of the now that he wants to last forever.

"I promise it is."

"Well, if you promise then I can tough it out."

"I hope so... " he tells me, looking at me in that Edward way...

The sweet with a side of evil...

That I can't wait to get my first real taste of. And second. And...

" ...And I'm not sorry for that at all."

* * *

"Isabella, if you don't tell me where you want to go, we might not be going anywhere at all."

"I'd be okay with that. Not going anywhere... "

"Ouch."

_As if, Mr. Masen..._ "I don't mean I don't want a honeymoon with you, Edward. I can't wait for that. I just... "

"You just what, sweetheart?" he asks after a moment, because I didn't finish. Because this is one of those things I'm afraid he'll think is silly. Or childlike. Or just... "Tell me."

"I don't care where we go... anywhere you pick... anywhere at all with you... alone... will be perfect. I really just... just... "

"Are you nervous? Or afraid? Of _alone _with me?"

"No," I tell him. Because I'm not. I'm excited... _so excited_... "I'm not either of those things. Even if I should be."

"I didn't say you should be, sweetheart. I don't want you to be... but it would certainly be understandable if you were the first."

"But I'm not."

"Then why are we having this conversation again? Why the stalling?"

"I'm not stalling. And I told you several times I'd go anywhere you picked. And be happy... "

"Yes, and then always immediately after you did, changed the subject by asking me if our house would be finished in time."

"That's because that part does matter to me. Going _there _with you. Alone."

"I want it to be ready, too, Isabella. Of course I do. And for the most part it is, but a few things just weren't quite perfect. For you. So I ordered some changes. Little things, but important, because everything for you is to me. And I promise you that by the time we get back from wherever we go, it will be ready."

"But I want it to be ready _before_."

"I don't know if that–"

"Please, Edward? Can you make it?"

"Tell me why, sweetheart. Why _before _is so important?"

I bite my lip and look down at our hands. Mine are held tightly in his, and he's on his knees in front of me. Looking up at me with a want and a willingness in every part of him to give me everything I want. Make everything perfect for me.

Because he knows me. Inside and out.

He understands me. And is understanding more every day.

So much so that I don't have to answer his question now. He just needed a little time to answer it for himself. And me. And tell me I don't have to. And that he doesn't think the why is silly. Or too childlike. As one of his understanding hands frees mine. And then my lip. "You want the first night we spend as husband and wife to be in our house."

I look into his beautiful green eyes and nod. "Is it possible? For me to have _that _perfect? Even if something else isn't to you? Little things...?"

"It is now. Now that I understand."

"I just... I don't want the first... well, I don't want it to be where anyone else has ever been. And certainly not in a bed that... um... "

"Neither do I, beautiful. And it won't be. And you don't have to say anything else."

"Yes I do. And, unlike that, saying this is easy...

"I love you. And I can't wait to be your wife. In every way. And anywhere... after I am in _ours_."

* * *

"Knock knock... whatcha doin?"

Edward brought me home an hour ago. And when we walked in, Jasper and Alice were making out on the couch like a couple of horny teenagers.

It made me laugh. Because my brother is always very careful about those things. Ridiculously careful. And it drives Alice nuts.

And me, frankly. Not that I want–or wanted–to see anything like I did when we came in...

But I would like to see _something_. Him show her some kind of affection at all.

Alice is completely head over heels in love with my brother. And he's crazy about her, I know he is, and so does she... so does everyone in our little circle... but no one else would know it if they ever saw him with her _and _me.

Like he has to set some kind of example for me or something... a _Don't touch_ example. If they're in _this _house. Rules that don't exist if they're in hers. Though I could have done without her telling me about that...

I shake off the shudder _that_ brought and look up at her, and finally answer her question. "I was just thinking about my wedding day... and night."

"I'd be thinking about it too if I was marrying– nevermind. Don't hurt me. Instead, tell me why in the hell you just _shuddered _thinking about it?"

"I didn't. I shuddered because sometimes you talk too much about your nights and– like you said, nevermind."

She laughs and then sits down on my bed with a pout. "You Hales are as mean as you are irresistible."

"Well, that second part is what I was really thinking about. You know... that I want to be."

"Irresistible? On your wedding night? Oh, honey, trust me... he isn't going to resist anything. Or any irresistible part of you. He couldn't possibly with the way he adores you. And sure as hell not after how long he's waited to."

"No... I don't doubt that... " _At all... _"I just really want to _look_. Before he doesn't."

"I was at your bridal shower, Bella... and the only time or place I've ever seen more sexy lingerie than then and there, was in a store for it. Just take your pick from that haul, honey, and you _will_."

"But that's just it, Alice... I'd already picked something. Bought... for myself... and him... before you guys gave me any of that."

"Then wear it, sweetie. You have a lifetime to wear the rest for him."

"It's what I was planning to do... _why _I bought it... but now... after getting that haul... from every one of you who knows more about that kind of irresistible than I do... I'm not sure he'll like what _I _picked."

"Why would you think he might not?"

"Because what I picked is... _different_. Than all of the haul."

"Different, huh? Let me guess... _sweeter_?"

I bite my lip and nod, and she puts her arm around me. "I happen to know, as you very well do, that Edward loves that part of you. And I don't even have to see what you picked to know that he'll love _it_, too."

_Good, because I'm not showing it to you or anyone.._. "But–"

"No, honey. No buts. He will. And don't let that haul make you think any differently... we're just a bunch of sex-crazed pervs."

"Rose's presents actually scared me. Well, the ones besides the shoes."

"Those shoes are FABULOUS. And just a suggestion... I know they were meant to be worn with your also-fabulous dress... but it doesn't mean you can't put them back on... _later_."

_Later? _

_Well, they _would _be pretty with that sweet thing I picked..._

"But as for her other presents... Don't be scared, sweetie, that girl's just a freak."

"I knew that already."

"Yeah, I'm sure you did. And you know, while we're on the subject of freaks, I kind of miss Emmett... "

We both bust out laughing, because she's right... he is freakish. In a lovable sort of way. And a big. And not around nearly as much as he used to be.

Unlike someone else. Who's also freakishly lovable. Though not as big. And who just peeked around my bedroom door. "You're talking about me, aren't you?"

"No." I smile and shake my head at my brother. "We probably wouldn't be laughing if we were."

"I'll pretend my feelings aren't hurt by that," he tells me, and then turns his wounded-looking attention to Alice, where it changes to something else. "I thought you were just saying goodnight?"

"I was."

"It only takes a minute to do that. SECONDS, actually, so–"

"Were you afraid I'd crawled into your bed and gotten comfortable instead of came in here? Is that why you're up here spying?"

I laugh again, because crawling into Jasper's bed is something Alice has been dying to do for months.

He never lets her.

He's never allowed _any _woman to sleep over in our house. And even though his relationship with Alice is different than any he's ever had, closer... more serious... she's no exception. Because of me.

"I don't think that's funny. And you wouldn't dare."

It's her who laughs now... and looks at him with a_ Don't challenge me, darlin_ expression. Before saying what I've heard her say a hundred times. "Your house rules are ridiculous."

And he responds the same as he always does. "The door's open."

She rolls her eyes at him and then kisses my cheek and gets up from my bed. "Bella is fully aware of your double standard. She doesn't have to hear anything through the walls, or see me at your table for breakfast to know it exists."

"What double standard?" he asks, making my head shake of its own volition.

And Alice happy for the wide open opportunity. "The one that says 'Do as I say, not as I do. And believe I do nothing because I don't do it in the vicinity of you.' As in _her_."

"That's not–"

"Yes it is," I say, interrupting him before Alice can. "And it really is kind of ridiculous. Your number one house rule. I have no problem with her sleeping over. As long as you turn on loud music or something."

"There will be no loud music. Or anything else. She's NOT sleeping over."

_Sorry, Alice, I tried... again... _

"Whatever," _she _says and pushes past him and heads towards my door. "I have to get up early anyway. Goodnight, Bella! And don't worry your pretty head about anything! Your wedding night will be FABULOUS!"

_I'm going to kill her..._

Because Jasper's eyes are now wide as saucers. Unhappy, unfabulous saucers. And on _me_.

_I have to get up early too... _"Go walk her to her car."

"Isabella–"

"GO."

He gives me a look that tells me he'll be back–not that I didn't already know that–and leaves my room to be the gentleman that he is. _I wonder if I could drink a whole bottle of wine before he gets back in? Or suffocate myself with my pillow? Or... _

_Hmmm... _

_Maybe..._

* * *

I decided on the third option. The maybe.

And when Jasper comes back into my bedroom he's greeted by some of my haul.

Is that weird? To greet him with it? And ask for his advice?

Some might think so, I suppose... but he's a guy, brother or not. And probably knows more about what Edward can't resist than anyone. Because before he had to resist me, Edward didn't resist much at all. And guys talk to each other about that stuff, right? Best lifelong friends, certainly?

"What the hell is all that?"

"Lingerie, is what I think it's technically called. Though I don't know about some of it... "

"I know what it is, Isabella. WHY is it in your room? Or possession at all?"

"Bridal shower presents."

"Remind me to kill all of your friends."

"Sorry, no can do. I like the smile so often on your face now."

"Oh, I'll deal with _that _one... "

_Please don't... because then I might hear about how you did..._

I shake off another shudder and then look back up–and away from my haul–at him. "Can you help me with something?"

"Burn it all? Absolutely."

He starts gathering up said haul and I laugh, because it _is _funny... but then put my hands on his lace, leather, and silky-filled ones to stop him. "That's not quite what I meant."

"Are you about to give me a stroke?"

"I hope not. It's certainly not at all my intention. I was just hoping that you could give me some advice. About this stuff."

"My advice is for you to let me burn it."

"If it's too awkward then nevermind. I just wanted to ask someone... that I trust and feel comfortable with... a man... someone who knows Edward... really well... that wouldn't get distracted and be a total perv about it... like I know Emmett would be. And... well, I know Sam wouldn't, but I don't think Edward ever talked to him about _that _stuff...

"Whatever. It's okay. I'll figure it out. I'm sorry I asked."

He closes his eyes for a moment, and he takes more than a few deep breaths, and then looks at me. In a way that tells me he really would do anything for me. "What is your question, exactly?"

"It's really okay, you don't have to."

"Ask me, Isabella. Because, like always, there's nothing you can't. Honest, there isn't."

"Well... are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm positive."

I'm not so sure he is, but... "It's just... I don't want Edward to be disappointed... " _Oh God, his face... _"Jasper, I'm not going to ask you about sex. I promise I'm not. It's purely wardrobe-related advice I'm asking you for. And not _specific_... I don't want you to know that any more than you want to... I just... I don't know... I guess I just wanted to know if there's anything he doesn't like. That you might know of. Or something that he would be turned off by."

His expression changes. And it's not to one I expected. And it holds me in place until he speaks again. "You really don't know?"

"Well, I don't know much of anything... about this kind of thing... but really don't know _what_, exactly?"

"What Edward likes. Or doesn't."

"Of course I don't. Not about this kind of–"

"You really and truly don't."

It was a statement, not a question. They all were. And ones he's clearly shocked he could make. To me. Who's a little hurt. "I may think your house rules are ridiculous, Jasper, just like Alice does... but that really only means that I think they're ridiculous for _you_.

"And how they apply to me... directly or in... is ultimately _my _rule. That just happens to coincidentally be one you more than happily support. And have always tried to ensure–with _Edward's _support–stayed in place.

"And I'm honestly a little hurt that you thought that rule–again, MINE–had changed or been broken. I thought you knew me better than that."

"Don't be hurt, Isabella, I just... well, I _do _know Edward...

"And I know how much you trust him... how completely... and how in love with him you are... and how that–and he–might have changed the way you looked at things... what you thought was important... especially after he put that ring on your finger... "

"It could have, I suppose... and he could have... if he cared more about himself than he does about me... "

"But it didn't," he says, once again, instead of asks.

"No," I tell him. And then add "And he doesn't." Just so it's absolutely clear. What and who he knows, or thinks he does.

"Well, I'm sorry I was wrong. And not, of course... "

"I knew the second part. Because _I _definitely know _you_."

"Yeah, I know you do. I'm a pretty open book."

"With me, yes."

"So, I _can _burn all of this stuff?" he asks me, adorably, looking down at it in horror.

"No. Not unless you honestly believe he'll hate it all."

"He definitely will. Every disgusting piece of it."

"Liar," I say, and laugh. Which makes him rub his hands up and down his face with an accompanying painful groan.

But then he quiets. And pulls them away. And looks at me. And, I think, opens a new page of that book. "I don't think I'm the one that you should be asking, sweetheart. Not because I'm your brother... but because I've been wrong too many times about what you have faith in. _Who_... who _else_...

"And because, though I might know the right answer this time, mine is still the same. He'll hate it all... because it's the only one I can live with... "

"I know," I tell him when he pauses. With a smile. "And that's okay with me, because I really want you alive."

"Thank you. I'm not always sure about that."

"That's because you're as ridiculous as your house rules."

"Perhaps."

"So, um... just to clarify... what I think I know... and am SHOCKED by...

"Did you just tell me to ask _Edward_?"

"Talk about ridiculous... " he mutters, "but yeah. I did. If what he likes is so important to you–like your not already knowing is to me–that you're worried about it, so worried about it that you'd ask _me_, then I think he should be given the chance to speak for himself. And take your worries away. And anything else."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. Anything else. Or every."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm pretty sure Edward will answer that, too, sweetheart."

* * *

Whatever else my big brother has done, he's always given me great advice when I've asked him for it.

Just like Edward. Who is exactly the person–and the only–I should have asked for it this time.

He'd already told me exactly that...

When he told me he didn't want me to ask anyone questions. Anyone but him. For what will be _for_.

Something I forgot, I guess. Or let my wanting to make him happy push from my mind.

Something I think I was wrong to do. But can still make right. On this very night, for that one very soon.

Very, very, VERY soon.

"What's in the bag, beautiful?" he asks as I come down the stairs with the haul-filled one.

"My things, of course," I tease, "For my sleepover with you."

"NOT FUNNY, Isabella," Jasper warns from our couch, and then eyes what else is not with surprising calm.

Surprising because he knows exactly what it is. And because he knows Edward is taking me, and it, to his place for a quiet night alone. From which he'll bring me back home, of course...

Because very, very, VERY soon isn't quite yet. "I'm going to have to agree with Jasper on that, sweetheart. Not funny. And not happening."

"I know." Boy, do I know...

Because I've tried that already. Many, many, MANY times. To get him to let me. In an innocent _I just don't want you to let go _sort of way.

Because I hate it when he does. When he has to, and say goodnight. Take me home, and go back to his alone.

I hate it so much... "I was just kidding."_ Mostly..._

He gives me a _BULLSHIT _grin and takes us back to the matter at hand. And _in _mine. "So, in the bag is...?"

"Just some things I want to show you."

"Okay," he says, and sits down. "Show me."

"No, not now," I tell him, and shake my head. "And not here."

He follows my gaze to Jasper, who I think is trying really hard to remember that this was his advice to me a couple of nights ago, and then trains his back on me. His that is now suspicious. "Am I going to think 'not now' and 'not here' is a good idea?"

"Yes," I tell him with complete honesty. "If you do actually _think_."

"Instead of...?"

"Taking one look at what I want to show you and assuming I'm just being a little snot. Or evil, or whatever."

He glances at my brother again, and then back to me, wary but trusting at the same time. "Because you're not?"

"Yes. Because I'm not. Cross my heart."

He eyes each of my hands now, I know to see if I'm crossing anything else, and smiles. "Okay. Since you cross your heart. _Only_."

He really does know me... "Thank you." I smile back, for that and a million other reasons. "And now that that's settled, can we go please? I skipped lunch today and I'm starving."

"Why did you skip lunch?" he asks me, jumping quickly to his feet with his answer to _my_ question.

"Well, I didn't intentionally skip it. I just had some things I wanted to do that took longer than I expected, and I ran out of time before I had to get back to work."

"What kind of things?"

"The shopping kind."

"Well, sweetheart, while I will never begrudge your affection for that, mine for you must insist that you never again put it before what _I _want you to do. Take care of you."

"Your bossiness is really kind of sweet sometimes," I tell him, and kiss him on the cheek. "And okay. I promise I won't do it again."

"Thank you."

"But it wasn't just any shopping, for information's sake. It was important."

"Isn't it all?"

"Rose and Alice would say yes to that, and probably take away my girlcard for saying no, but... no. Not like this was."

There's a twinkle in his eyes as he looks at me. And it matches the one in his voice as he leads me to the front door. "The only person who can or will ever take a card away from you is _me_."

_Does he mean... _"Bye, Jasper!" _my..._

"And only to give you a new one."

_Well, I don't think there's a name for _that_, so... _"A new one?"

"Yes," he says, opening my door and helping me into my seat in his truck. "A new one."

He reaches into his pocket–something I will forever love him doing, even though I didn't _see _him do it the last time–and pulls out something shiny and puts it in my hand.

And then closes my door and walks around to his own with a sexy smirk. One he still wears as he gets in beside me.

Not that I can completely focus on it...

Because the shiny thing in my hand is a card. A new one. That has something on _it _that I can't stop looking at.

My name. And _his_.

**Isabella M. Masen**

"It came today."

_It's beautiful..._ "I can't wait to give you my card," I blurt out.

And I know my face is instantly a thousand shades of red... because I know how that sounded...

But his is just sweet. And proud. "I knew I wouldn't really have to _take _it from you."

I shake my head and he smiles, and then reaches over to grab my seat belt and snap it into place before doing the same with his own and backing out of the driveway.

"But you'll have to wait just a little while longer for me to give it to you willingly," I tell him, my eyes falling back to those perfectly printed letters that will soon define me in a way I've forever dreamed, "because I don't have the proper identification or documentation to use this one yet."

"Oh, I know that, sweetheart," he agrees easily, reaching over and grabbing my hand, "And just so you know something... " and squeezing it, "I can't wait, either... but _will_. Willingly."

"Thank you, Edward. For... you." _Thank you so much..._

* * *

My new shiny and beautiful card? In my purse with my old.

Our dinner that came out of a box? A pizza box, because it's what I wanted? Demolished. Because I really was starving.

And that bag Edward carried in for me? That's for something _he's _starving for? About to be emptied.

The only question is _where _to empty it?

I don't want to do it where we are now... on my favorite thing in Edward's waiting-for-yet place. His couch, of course...

And I know getting him to take me into his bedroom would be impossible...

Though the fact that it would puts the hugest smile on my face...

"What are you thinking about, my beautiful girl?"

"You. And how good you are at waiting for things. _Important _ones."

"Only for you."

"I know. And I want to ask you something... for what will only ever be for you."

"Well, then by all means, I'm all ears."

"I need you to be _eyes _too," I say, and glance at the bag a few feet away in a chair, "And mouth. Because what I want to ask you is kind of a 'I show and you tell'."

"Okay. Show away, and I'll do my best to see and tell."

"And _think_," I remind him. "Don't forget about that part, or else you might get mad at me."

"Have I ever gotten mad at you?"

"Probably. But you never told me you were."

"I never told you I was because I never have been. Not once, Isabella."

_He's known me since the day I was born... and that's... _"Further proof of how wonderfully patient you are."

"Again, only for you."

I smile and rub the tip of my nose against his sweetly, and then get up, pulling him up with me, and to the bag full of questions. "And because you are, I really want you not to be disappointed when you don't have to be anymore. Or unhappy... or–"

"Sweetheart, we've talked about this. And I'm not going to be either of those things. Or anything else but... well, I'm not sure I could even put it into words what I'll be... but Isabella... they'd be perfect ones if I could."

"No... I'm really not worried about that. Or, more, I got past being a long time ago. Now it's... well, it's more of a 'presentation' concern that I have. For you."

"Presentation?"

"Yes. You know, like... well, you wouldn't buy someone a very beautiful and special gift and then hand it to them in a plastic grocery bag or something. You'd wrap it up in pretty paper and put a pretty bow on it. Or something like that."

He hasn't seen anything yet, but his eyes have a sudden knowing. "Isabella, is there pretty paper in that bag? And some pretty bows?"

He understands. But... "Not really. Not to me... but to you, maybe."

"To me, huh? Okay... show me and we'll see," he says, and I don't think he's mad at all.

So I pull out the first item–a red two piece one, though one of the pieces could hardly be called a whole one–and hold it up. Let him see all of it, what little there is. And see for myself his disinterest, that I can't say _I _understand.

"Next," he says, taking it from my hand and tossing it in the chair next to the bag.

Which I reach into again. For _next_, which is some black leather contraption–because it just happened to be next in the pile. I didn't arrange them in any particular way or order–and as soon as I pull it out, he takes it from me and drops it into the chair on top of the other with barely a glance. At _it_.

And more than one at me. Who's more unsure now than before.

About what irresistible is to him.

Him, who takes pity on me. Or something... "Can I help you with the showing me part?"

I nod and he starts pulling the rest of my haul from the bag, with quick glances and even quicker dismissals of each.

And then they're all back in it. And the bag is on the floor near the door. Because he tossed it there. From where we stood.

Before he led me sweetly back to where we were before my failed game of show and tell. The second part of which I can only assume, since he didn't actually _tell _me anything.

"You didn't buy any of that," he tells me now, pulling me onto my favorite place in his lap. Or on...

"No... they were all presents."

"From people who obviously don't know you very well."

"I think it's more that they do and feel sorry for you. And wanted to help you... or something."

"Well, if they feel sorry for me, sweetheart, then they definitely don't know you very well. Or at all."

"I'm glad you think that, Edward... but, in their defense, I think they just know how much I like pretty paper and pretty bows... and how much a man's likes might be different than those."

"_A_ man's, perhaps."

"I only care about one. And what _he _likes."

"You definitely just showed me that. So, let me tell you something... You already know what I like."

"To eat or to drink or to watch on tv, yes... but not–"

"And _who _I love."

"Yes, but–"

"And have–and will–only ever."

"_Yes_, Edward, but I don't want you not to like the pretty paper I wrap myself in. Or for the pretty bow not to entice you... and make you want to–"

"Isabella, do you remember how I worried about doing something wrong? Something for you?"

"Yes, but–"

"And how you told me over and over again that I couldn't?"

"Yes," I sigh, "but it's not the same thing."

"Yes it is. It's exactly the same thing. And sweetheart, you can't do it wrong. Or wrap it. Or put it in my hands. Not as long as it's you who does."

"But that's not true, Edward. Because you didn't seem to like any of those things I showed you, and–"

"No, I didn't. Because they _weren't _you."

"But what if _me _is _too _me? And not enough _you_? And you don't even want to open your present?"

He looks at me like I'm crazy, but when he answers, his voice is soft and sweet. Like his thumb that brushes across my cheek. "Isabella, nothing could make me not want to open it... as long as _you _give it to me. All and only you."

"I do have some pretty paper," I tell him, "that _I _picked out. And a pretty bow... or a _few _bows... "

And I know the moment the words are out of my mouth that I was silly to worry about him not liking it...

Because I haven't even showed it to him yet...

And he's already telling me how perfect it is.

Without saying a word.

"You liked hearing that."

* * *

"I should get you home."

I pull him back down to me, where I lie perfectly beneath him on his couch. "That's the most wrong and imperfect idea ever."

"But right," he breathes, pulling himself back up again. And me with him this time.

"Not to me."

"Well, _for _you is my motivation at this particular moment, so... "

"So you should let me spend the night here. Because that would make me happy."

"I want to open my present, Isabella... not die knowing I'll never get to."

"You will. And won't."

"Are you forgetting what, besides your bed, is waiting for you at home? Or, more precisely, who?"

"No. I just know that he trusts you with me."

"Wow... my kisses have made you delirious... "

"Always. But not about that. He does."

"He really doesn't, sweetheart. Not beyond your basic, elemental safety."

"He knew what was in the bag, Edward. And he knew we were coming here. To be alone. With it."

"What do you mean he knew what was in the bag?"

"I mean he knew. Because I showed it to him before it was."

"You showed it to him?"

"Yes. And asked his advice. Because he's a guy, and you're a guy, and I thought you'd probably had lots of 'guy' talks... being you've been best friends forever... and he wanted to kill you and all... "

"You were really worried," he says, instead of telling me how ridiculous I am.

"I wasn't... until I ripped the pretty paper off of all of that stuff. And then... well, then I was. Because it was all very different than what I... um... "

"STOP worrying, Isabella."

"Okay. I already have, mostly... but can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything."

"You really didn't seem to like any of that stuff... Is that because you truly don't? Or because you think I'm too sweet to wear any of it? And not enough something else?"

"Is 'sexy' the something else you're so ridiculously referring to?"

"Yes."

"Sweetheart, you could make Pepto Bismol pink footie pajamas sexy."

"So, is that a no? To my last question?"

"Yes, Isabella, it's a NO. And a yes to your second, in the best possible kind of way. And another yes to the first. I really and truly didn't like any of it."

"Because?"

"Because to me, pretty paper isn't pretty anymore when it looks like it's been put through a shredder."

"Some of it really did look like it had been," I agree, and then drop it. Because I don't want to talk about it anymore. Or anything, really, since before we were, he thought he should get me home.

The home that I'm dying not to have to go to anymore. Simply because it isn't ours.

And because there _is _an ours. Waiting in a forest, though most of it has been cleared away.

Most, not all.

Because I asked him if some of it could stay. If there was enough of it–and the ground it grew from–to keep some.

And he told me that there was... more than enough... and that I could have anything I wanted. Because it was mine.

A gift he couldn't wrap in pretty paper or put a pretty bow on, but that was perfect without either. Because it was for me. And so completely from him.

Like this beautiful ring he put on my finger. That I do stare at every day. Still...

As awed and amazed as I was on the night he did. Right here on this couch. That we're keeping even though we picked out a new. Together.

Because I could never part with it. And told him that.

And he said there was enough ground for it, too. _In _our house. Somewhere...

And _somewhere _because I haven't seen it. Have no idea what it looks like. Because he wanted it to be a surprise.

He's asked me things... about colors and fabrics and surfaces...

And we've picked things together...

But only some. He's done and chosen everything else on his own. Because he trusted himself enough to. To know that he understands me enough. What I would want and what I would like and what I wouldn't.

Which is going to make me love all of those things even more. And made me even more anxious to know what he would. Want and like...

Which is exactly why that bag sits on the floor at his door.

And why he didn't get mad that I brought it here.

He knows I don't know those things. And was only trying to. For him.

Trying to learn in the only way I could until the house he'll take me home to is ours.

"Can we stay here just a little while longer?" I ask him. Because I really don't want to go home yet.

And his eyes that have been gazing lovingly at my face for the last few minutes don't tell me no. Before he doesn't. "If that's what you want."

"But not _here _exactly?" I ask now, wanting him to trust me enough–and himself–to take me somewhere else. And spend just a little time. Because the fact that he never has does put a huge smile on my face, but his taking me would, too.

"_Where_ exactly?" he asks, even though I know he knows the answer. And knows that I know he does.

"Someplace you've never taken me. And that I want to go to just once... without having to sneak into."

Because I've never been in Edward's bedroom without having to. Not in the place–this–where no despicable has ever been. Or been brought to, if you don't count that bag at his door. Which I don't, because it was brought here by me, not him. But only innocently _for_...

"For just a little while?" he asks now, telling me he's willing.

And "Yes," I answer immediately, because he is. "Just until you say it's time to go. Again."

"Well, since you seem to be sure that I _will _say it... then I suppose we can."

I smile sweetly and stand. And _wait_.

Because I am. And because I meant it. I want _him_ to take me.

For just a little while...

* * *

Wanting Edward to take me into his bedroom was an innocent thing.

I just wanted to be in his space. The place where he laid his head every night. Closed his eyes to every day. And opened them to every new. Because I don't get to see him do that.

Yet...

It's one of the things I'm most excited for. And most anxious to see...

Edward close his eyes. With me beside him.

And then open them again the same.

In a place he chose. Dreamed...

And built. From the ground up. And not just the ground our feet will touch...

But his. His foundation. His brilliant mind and his shockingly generous and beautiful heart...

That don't fight each other anymore. That stopped...

Joined forces. So that they could protect me in a better way. By pulling me inside of both. Tucking me in. And keeping me there.

Where I knew I was always meant to be. Meant to belong in and to.

Not many people can say that they got to spend their entire lives with the one they loved...

But I can.

Yes, I'm only twenty three years old...

And my life has barely begun...

But he's been in it. Rooted deep. From the first day that it did.

And he'll stay rooted. Because it's where he wants to. And where he knows he's supposed to be. Like me for him, was always meant to.

Someone at work had said I was crazy to want to get married so young. And after so little time together.

But they just didn't understand. The time we'd really spent. The years. Watching each other grow up.

And, though I'm younger in those years...

And in so many other ways...

I'm not in all.

And not too much.

And not too much to know what's right for my life. And that I don't want to waste any of it with wrong.

If there's one thing I know–have felt the pain of learning–it's that life can be short. Far too...

We _both _know it. And both want as much of it as we can have. As much more...

Together.

As close together as we can get. Because he came–and brought me–where I wanted him to.

Something I'm thanking him for...

Telling him I love him for...

And will love him more for soon...

With my mouth that he won't have to shush...

Or pull from his skin back to his...

A fight for him, but a different one than the one I already won. "I _really _need to get you home now."

"Okay," I say easily, and giggle as he practically back flips off of his bed and away from me, his back hitting the wall behind him with a thud. "Whatever you say."

He shakes his head at me, and probably more than at me, at _himself_, and points to the shirt–his–I now hold in my hands. "Toss it to me."

"Come and get it from me," I challenge instead.

"That would not be a good idea, Isabella. And, in fact, an even worse one than yours to take it off of me was."

"You let me," I remind him, because he did. Even though I've never let him.

"I know that. And that my pedestal is in crumbled ruin on the floor. And I'm sorry for that. It wasn't at all my intention when I brought you in here."

"It wasn't mine, either," I tell him honestly, "When I asked you to. And DON'T be sorry. Nothing is crumbled or ruined."

And then I climb from his bed with his shirt still in hand, and, after I bring it to my nose and inhale it shamelessly, give it a hard shake-out and hold it out to him. "Just a little crumPled, maybe. But I could fix that before we go if it would make you feel better? Just point me to your iron. I promise not to get too distracted looking at you and scorch it."

He mumbles what I think is_ "Little snot" _under his breath and snatches it from my hands. And, unfortunately for me, this much-better-than-the-one-I-planned game of show and tell is over, because he has it back on and buttoned quicker than should be humanly possible.

And then his eyes are on mine. And then my hair, which his hands now try to smooth. "You know I love you, right? With all of my heart? And, also with all of it, want to be _alive _to watch you walk down that aisle to me? And put your life in my hands?"

I nod and beam up at him. Fiercely.

Like I'll do something else if it comes to that when he walks me through my soon-to-be-not front door. For one of the last times before he walks–or carries–me through ours. "You will be. And then, with all of mine–everything–I promise you, happy that you were for the rest of yours." _I promise, Edward._

**xx**

**She's so sweet. And I can't promise that she'll start keeping her promise in the _next_ chapter, but if she doesn't get the chance to, she should in the one after. I'll try my best.**

**And I know there was no EPOV in this one... which feels weird, even to me... but that's just the way it went. And I promise we'll hear from him in the next one.**

**See you soon.**


	2. Chapter 2: Stripped Bare

**Hello again, my patient, PATIENT little group of darlings!... *clears throat* ...who aren't here to see ME, I know, and who are more than welcome to pretend you don't. I'm just here to drop off a list anyway. Which I advise you to take a look at before looking at what you are here for.**

**THE LIST ****(of what you'll see–and hear–down there)**

**1) Some sweet**

**2) Some not**

**3) Some stripping (I could explain this further, but I won't)**

**4) Some answers (again, I could explain but...) **

**5) Some tears (some were mine)**

**6) Some downright despicable (should be obvious)**

**7) Some conversations with declarations (squeeeeeee)**

**8) Some BROmance (I know some of you naughty h00rs might be squirming at the mere thought of that, but don't get too excited... this IS a Edward and ISABELLA love story)**

**9) Some laughs (again, some were mine)**

**And last but never least here...**

**10) Some LOVE**

**And now that I've warned you about everything I can think to, you can get to all of it... stripped bare or fully dressed, it's your call. ;)**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Stripped Bare**

**Isabella**

"You're an interesting girl, Isabella Hale... "

"Why do you say that, Alice?"

Though I'm sure everything is perfect for my dream day, I decided to take one last look. I've been taking pictures for days... trying to capture the details that my eyes know by heart, but that I want to be beyond sure are absolutely right.

My lists have all been checked... and rechecked... more times than I could ever count...

But I still need to see that I haven't missed anything, or that nothing besides what's beyond my control is wrong.

"Because I never would have imagined that your fairy tale was such a dark one."

"This is a _dark_room, Alice."

"Ha ha, very funny... " she says, and sticks her tongue out at me where she's joined me in mine. "My observation of your _dark _fairy tale has nothing to do with the lighting in here."

"Then what does it have to do with?" I ask her, because I honestly don't know what she's talking about.

"You, my gothic little princess."

Gothic? _Me_? "Have you been drinking?"

"No, I have not."

"Smoking something?"

"No. You know I don't do that."

"Then I think we need to take you to the eye doctor... or some kind of doctor... because there is nothing dark or gothic about me, which _you _know."

"Said the girl who is getting married in a forest. At twilight."

"That's not gothic, it's romantic."

"It's both. Just like nearly every other lovely little detail you've so meticulously–and surprisingly–chosen."

"What are you surprised about? You were with me, or right next to me, when I chose most of it. And shown what you weren't at the first opportunity."

"I know. And I loved being one of the people who was. One of the people you wanted to... and I loved everything you chose. I was just surprised by some of it. And am even more so now that I've seen it all come together."

"But why?" I ask her, still not understanding her point. Because seeing it all come together–put together–only makes me love it all more. And more sure than ever that it's all perfect, and exactly what I wanted.

"Because, unlike that other thing you told me you chose for your perfect fairy tale wedding _night_, your perfect fairy tale _wedding _isn't quite as 'sweet' as I'd have expected it to be."

Looking at all of the details again... in the pictures surrounding us...

And remembering the raised brows I saw again and again by most everyone each time they saw them–because they, too, perhaps expected to see different ones–I suppose I see now what she's saying. They're not _all_ sweet. And my fairy tale wedding won't be.

But fairy tales...

The real ones...

_Weren't_.

And marrying Edward is, more than anything, _real _to me. "Well, getting married, for me, is about letting some of that go. The _sweet_...

"So... 'surprising'... to any or all of you... is to _me_... just right."

And I can't wait until the day it truly does all come together.

Perfectly.

Sweet...

Or not.

* * *

**Edward**

"What do you mean, no strippers?"

_Some things never change..._ "I mean NO STRIPPERS, Emmett."

"Dude, it's a BACHELOR PARTY. Strippers are a requirement. That shit's not optional."

"I'm glad you think so, Emmett," Rose says, getting up and doing a few stripper-like moves of her own. And turning my stomach with every one. "And are willing to battle for the cause. Because Bella's going to have them, too, at her _bachelorette _party."

"No she's not!" (Emmett) "The hell she is." (Sam) And "OVER YOUR DEAD BODY." (Jasper, of course) is the chorus that greets her.

And I, also of course, have my own thoughts about it, and they're the same as all of those–especially Jasper's–but I don't need to say them out loud. Or issue any orders or declare any rules that shall not be broken...

Because Isabella would never. And has her own. And her own voice. And can–and I know _will_–speak for herself. And what she does and would–again, never–want. "No, Rose. I don't want that and you know it."

"What I _know _is that Emily and Alice got to plan your bridal shower. And that you insulted me by giving me back all but one of the gifts I gave you _at _it, not to mention when you didn't ask _me_–who has been your friend for more YEARS than she has months–to be your maid of honor...

"AND I have to wear purple to not even be... and–seriously, if Angela takes one picture of me in that dress, I'll claw her eyes out–be outside for hours probably getting eaten alive by mosquitos...

"The bachelorette party is _mine_, Bella. Mine to plan, and mine to make you have fun at. And see a little of 'the world' before you have to cater to all things _his _for the rest of your poor, unfortunate life."

I know Rose wanted to wear red... fought Isabella nearly to the death about the purple she chose...

And I'm really tempted to support _her _cause right now... and drape her in RED... but it won't be with a _dress_... "It's _her_ party, Rose, NOT yours. And you'll respect that in your planning or have all things _me _to deal with. And I promise you you won't like that. Even more than you don't like that purple dress you should feel honored to have the _privilege _to wear."

"Said the control freak asshole who's going to be ogling, and God knows what else, a bunch of half naked–or fully–women that are NOT HER at his own party."

"I'm not going to be ogling anyone. Or any thing. There will be no women, in any manner of dress, or at all, at my party. Which I feel no desire to even have. So, shut your mouth, and back off, and concern yourself with your favorite thing, which we all know, is _you_. And ask yourself why _Emmett _is the one who wants to ogle something so badly. Or needs to, apparently."

"Fuck you, Edward!"

There are a million responses to that dancing on my tongue...

But she's not worth any of them. Or the breath it would take to speak–or beat her with–them.

And she wonders why she wasn't asked to be the maid of honor...

By my beautiful girl who wants a perfect, beautiful, _happy _day. Every.

And who isn't happy now. "You _will_ respect me, Rose. What I want and what I don't. And you'll respect _him_. Or you don't have to attend at all–my party or our wedding–wearing anything.

"AND you will respect that we are at this moment at Sam and Emily's home, and that I have their sweet, beautiful and innocent little boy in my arms."

"Who is a _BABY_, Bella. Who can't understand a word–"

Isabella doesn't wait for her to finish her pointless retort. She gets up and carries her godson–and mine–and her oldest brother's namesake, into the house, shielding him with her love and sweetness, both fiercer than any other part of her.

And both of which the sight of takes my breath away every time I see it. Still... even though it's been months and I've seen this love and sweetness many.

Since the day he was born...

She's been here, and I've been right beside her, like I am now, as often as she could. Helping with anything Emily or Sam needed. Or just letting them sleep. Or have a few minutes alone as husband and wife without that 'new parents' worry.

Because they never worry if their greatest treasure is in her sweet, loving arms. Or even in mine, which aren't nearly as much of either, and that I have to say shocked me a little... or a lot...

But Sam said that was ridiculous. And that if there was a man alive who could be trusted with a treasure it was me.

A declaration he made with a straight face. And in front of Jasper, who stared at me holding Ethan as if in a trance.

I think because the last time he saw me hold a baby–like I him–it was his baby sister. And it was their father saying he trusted me to. Even though I was just a boy...

"How old was Isabella the first time the word fuck came out of _her _cute little mouth?" Sam asks, covering his son's ears, and kissing Isabella's cheek, because, like me, he's in the house now, too.

"Four, I think?" I say, shaking mine at the memory. "Because I think that's how old she was when Emmett and his big mouth started hanging around."

"I heard that," Emmett says, joining us, as well. But probably only because we're in their kitchen now. "And stop blaming me for everything 'bad' the angel has ever done. Her truck driver mouth isn't only my fault. And _I'm _not the one who wants it to do other 'bad' things. _To _HIM."

Really. BIG. Mouth. Fucking idiot...

Who may be about to die... even before that HIM, who is me, myself, and I, can kill him.

Because _everyone _is in the kitchen now.

"For God's sake, Emmett, we just ate." Rose runs to the garbage can holding her stomach, and leans over it, making overly-dramatic gagging sounds. _The feeling is mutual, bitch..._

But neither that, nor Jasper's anything-but-amused face, is what I'm looking at now. Because Isabella is looking at me. And smiling a sweet, innocent, and anything-but-disgusted smile.

_Jesus... _

Which turns to a sweet, innocent pucker against my cheek as she walks past me, and everyone else, and out of the kitchen with that sweet, innocent treasure in her arms. Telling me I'll have mine soon.

In my arms or anywhere else I want it.

Because she's it.

And wants to be. _Fiercely_.

* * *

Bachelor party night has arrived. And as much as I'm dreading it, and the probability that my wants for it, though I didn't want it at all, may have been ignored–by Emmett–what I'm most concerned about is what Isabella may be concerned about. "You know there won't be strippers, right? That I truly don't want that? Or need? In any way?"

She nods, that beautiful smile she always wears for me bright on her face. Like the unspoken promises that I'll have everything I do want or need as soon as I say two anything-but-little words to her on that day I promised to give her.

Promises I've been seeing more and more of the closer we get to it. "I do. Know that."

"Good," I tell her, pulling her into my arms.

"Just like you do. I hope?"

"I have not a single doubt," I answer, but to _any _question she could have, rather than to just the one she posed. "But if _Rose _fails to heed our warnings? And wants?"

"I promise I won't look," she says, "At _anything_, but the buttons of my phone. To call you to come and sweep me away from despicable. After I punch her in the mouth. Or eye. Or both."

"Don't hurt those pretty hands," I tell her, "because, like your pretty eyes, I've been waiting very patiently to fill them with something."

Her pretty eyes now go wide, and it's she who's wearing red... better than Rose or anyone ever could... and I chuckle. Despicably. And kiss her flushed-with-warmth cheek in a way that's not. Because more than my ability to be, is how much I love her. And how much she could never be.

And then I take each of her pretty hands and bring them to my lips. "So save them for me, too. Okay?"

"Okay," she agrees easily, with a sweet smile on her face, that's now faded to a luscious shade of pink... like I imagine something else to be... something else she's saved for me... _God, I'm such a despicable asshole... _

"I should go now, I guess... " I tell her with a sigh. Because 'very patiently' is very HARD. Seriously, killing me... And because go is the last thing I want to do. Really, what a stupid and pointless tradition.

"Us too," Alice says, linking her arm with Isabella's. "And I promise you, Edward, your beautiful bride to be won't see anything she doesn't want to. Or that you don't want her to. And she won't hurt anything. Because I _do _think it's an honor to wear purple, and be the one she chose to wear it nearest her, where she'll get every–and _only _every–thing she's ever wanted.

"And if what she wants tonight is for Rose to wear a fat lip for trying to give her something else, then, believe me, it shall be my honor to give it to her."

I REALLY. Like. Alice.

Who's smile has suddenly turned mischievous. "Unless, of course, you'd like to combine your parties... and BE what we see. The four of you, I mean? Sam could wear his police uniform, and-"

"Alice!" Isabella wails, her expression as horrified as her scream, "Are you trying to traumatize me for life?!"

"What? I know you think of Sam as a big brother, Bella, but he's not- _oh_... but I said the _four _of them, didn't I? Oops. Bad plan. Forget I mentioned it. Seriously... please forget. Shit... "

Jasper is so shocked that he can't even speak, let alone yell, at Alice's clearly not thought through suggestion, but I tear my eyes from his murderous at her ones so that I can prevent Isabella from gouging her own out at simply hearing it.

I pull her hands from her face, strategically turning her left so that it sparkles before her, hoping that's enough to chase all other uninvited visions away. And lucky for her, it is... and her sweet smile returns to her face. And me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"And I didn't–and don't EVER–want to see _anything_, just to be clear," she tells me. But then her mouth drops open. Because I frown, even though I know exactly what she meant. "I didn't mean... well, I meant except... I mean, not y– You know what I mean, don't you?"

I laugh at her adorable attempt to clarify, and her hope that she doesn't have to further–and, if I'm being completely honest, at Jasper's discomfort at her wanting to–and give her hands a gentle squeeze. "Again, sweetheart, I have not a single doubt."

"Good," she says cheerfully, "because I never want you to. _Ever_."

"If only I had a say," I hear Jasper mutter, before the loud "NO" at Alice's attempted goodbye kiss, which he probably would have denied anyway, but that her slip of the unthinking tongue suggestion certainly gave him an excuse to on this occasion. And, as he's more immune than I have ever been to Isabella's, her pout does absolutely nothing to affect him or change his mind.

"Whatever," Alice sighs, rolling her eyes. And I'm in full agreement with her sentiment, because why the hell am I wasting my time on them? When my beautiful girl, who I don't think would ever deny me a kiss–goodbye or any other kind–is right in front of me not.

"Goodbye," she whispers, after giving me one that makes me never want to move. "Have fun."

"I won't, trust me," I say, and tighten my grip on her because her brother is now trying to pull her out of it.

With words that surprise me before I can speak any of my own. "We'll drop you off on our way to wherever it is we're going. And pick you up when you're ready. Or when we decide you are."

"_We_?" we all ask him at once, because we're _all _surprised. Because Jasper may not be fighting our course anymore, but he's never joined either of us on it. And he _wasn't _going to attend tonight's unnecessary pre-wedding festivities.

"Yeah," he says, looking directly at me. "Unless I'm not invited anymore?"

Isabella's beaming smile could light up a blacked out city. And, not that I'd answer any other way but how I'm going to, I'd sure as hell never do or say anything to dim it. "You're invited."

"Then let's go," he says, turning the lock on the inside of the door and escorting his sister out of it.

_Will wonders never cease..._

It doesn't escape anyone, least of all Isabella, that he slipped his own keys into his pocket. The keys to their house, _and_ his car in their garage. And when they reach my truck together, she stops at the _rear _door, pushing him towards the front, that beaming smile still in place.

I don't say anything–if that's the seating arrangement that will make her happy, I won't deny her–but Jasper outdoes my silence as, after he opens the front passenger door, he reaches his hand out to her to help her up and through it.

_And I thought she was beaming before... _

Maybe this night _is _important. And something _good _can be stripped away...

But I won't rub it in his face. And once everyone is in, and my glowing treasure is buckled in, I back out of their driveway to head to our destinations. And celebrations...

Of letting go of an old and miserably wrong way of living.

* * *

"What did I say?"

"You said no strippers."

"Get the fuck away from me! I won't tell you again!" _Fucking whores! _"So _what_ do I see?"

"Strippers."

_I'm going to knock that smug look right off of his face... _"WHYare they here, Emmett?"

"Because you only said what you said because Bella was sitting right thereat the time you said it."

"WRONG."

"Oh, come on, Edward, lighten up. I don't expect you to _do _anything... I love Bella and I'd kill you if you did, but it doesn't mean you can't sit back and be entertained."

"I. Don't. Want. To be. Entertained!"

"I'm. Helping. You! Because you probably don't even know if your dick works anymore, as long as it's been hibernating for the virgin winter... but this will wake it up, and then it will SPRING up, and–"

_Welcome back, Silent Tyson... _

_And nice takedown... REALLY nice..._

And REALLY ENTERTAINING...

So entertaining that I hate to look away...

But my phone is ringing... And who's ringing it will always come first. "Hi, sweetheart. Please tell me you're calling because you miss me and not because I have to murder a bridesmaid."

"I do miss you, and I really wish I could, but... "

"But you can't."

"No, I ca– Oh god... I REALLY can't, Edward! Please hurry!"

"I'm on my way, beautiful. Jasper! Get off of him! CODE RED!"

* * *

Thanks to a couple of idiots, part of Alice's suggestion has become a reality. Our parties have been combined. But maybe not in the way she hoped when she made it before she made that other...

Because all despicable has been _removed_. FEROCIOUSLY.

There's nothing to see and nothing to not want to. At this one, at least. Mine is still in full swing where we left it, I'm sure. Because not all of my 'friends', which makes them merely people I know, have the same priorities.

But leave it, we did. We, who do. Even Emmett, who orchestrated its existence this time, left it when he realized what Rose had orchestrated in another place. Not because he cared about _her _seeing it play out...

But because, idiot or not, he does care about what Isabella sees, if not about what she hears, often from his own big mouth.

"I TOLD YOU NO, ROSE!"

"YEAH, AND I DON'T TAKE ORDERS FROM YOU! AND _DIDN'T_!"

"You should have taken them from _me_," I tell her, not having to yell like Emmett did, because, believe me, she can hear me perfectly clearly... and see me... fuming...

Though she's seeing it now from _behind _Emmett... _because_ she does...

But he's not interested in protecting her, and turns around to face her with a response to what he heard from her before I gave her mine. That I know by the again-smug look on his face is not one anyone wants to hear. "YOU DID LAST NIGHT!"

_Why did I know he was going to say that?_

Because I know him.

And Rose, unfortunately. Not nearly as well... but more than enough. And more than enough to know that she won't stay quiet because he did say it.

And as much as I didn't want Isabella to see anything, I don't want her to hear it, either. So, though I'm not finished with Rose by any means, it's time to go. And get her out of here.

My her, that the sight of at this moment is more than I can bear. Because she's bent over in a chair with her head down and her hands covering her ears. _Damn you both!_

"Do you want to go, sweetheart?" I whisper to her, pulling one of her hands away just enough that she can hear me. "Or do you want them to? This was supposed to be for you... "

"I want to go," she answers immediately, looking up at me. "I don't care about this stupid party. She already ruined it."

"Okay," I tell her, and pull her up and tuck her into my side and lead her to the door. Because giving her what she wants, and her wanting nothing I don't want her to have, are priorities I'm honored to have at the top of my list. And be asked, wanted, and trusted to keep there.

"I'm sorry I ruined your night," she says softly as we reach my truck. "I really hoped I wouldn't have to."

"Hey... " I gently tilt her chin up with the tip of my finger. "You didn't ruin anything. You couldn't possibly. Don't _ever _think that."

"But you never do anything with the guys. Or without me. And you finally had a chance to... to just relax and have a good time... without all of the wedding stress I've been bombarding you with... "

"I've never felt bombarded, Isabella."

"Stressed, then... at least. I'm sure..."

"No. Not that, either. Not even a little bit."

"You don't have to say that. That it hasn't been. I–"

"Yes, I do. Because it's the truth. I've loved every minute of it."

"Edward..."

"Because doing it with you... planning that day–_our_ day–that you've dreamed of for so long... made you happy. Happier than I've ever seen you. And I could never not love that. Not for a single second."

"Thank you. But never? Not even at night when you wanted to be doing other things with me? And couldn't because of _other _plans? Of mine?"

Her eyes dare me to say yes. That I loved every minute of that, too...

But I can't do that. Not if I'm being completely honest with her, which is what she wants. To know that I will, always. No matter what. "Love is a pretty big word. And a strong..."

"It is," she agrees with a playful smile.

"And maybe _too _strong for some of those seconds. And minutes... and hours... that I didn't get to do what I wanted with you... "

"Months of..." she adds, still playful, but sorrowful, too. For my _painful _truth... because I know she knows I feel every second of it.

But there's one other thing I want to make clear to her. Painfully and playfully can't resist not making... "But if you think 'at night' is the only time I didn't love those seconds, minutes, and months of... then I definitely have a lot to teach you."

She bites her lip at this... but it's not in a way that causes me pain. Or makes me want to pull it free. Yet...

Because her cheeks are flushed. With _excitement_. And anticipation. And she just wanted to still the quiver that accompanied those beautiful things that I couldn't anything but love with all of my heart. And my...

"Sorry, sweetheart." Jasper's timing, as usual, is impeccable. Though maybe I should be grateful for it this time. Because it stopped me from going too far with her. Because those seconds, minutes, and months were not entirely loved by _all_ parts of me...

But, entirely shockingly, even though I basically have Isabella pinned against her door, he doesn't look concerned for why I do. Or for her at all... because it's me who does.

And that makes me happy. As does the "It's okay" that she tells him, because she's looking right at me when she does. Telling me it's more than...

And that–though I already know–I'll love every second, minute, month of nights... and days... and LIFETIME of that okay.

That will be anything _but_.

* * *

Not all of Alice's suggestions are bad. Or potentially traumatizing to my sweet girl. She has good ones sometimes. Though NOT when she suggested Isabella put on that tiny little bikini for a dip in the pool... the one just like hers, though in a different–her favorite–color. That only made Jasper see RED...

And turn it–with anger–as he said NO. Though not as red or angry as he could have because I said no, too. Even though neither of us had to, because my sweet girl was already shaking her beautiful head with her own.

And sits now on the edge of their pool in _shorts_. Looking at me in mine, the only thing I wear, because I'm _in _it in front of her. And between her dangling-in-it-with-me legs.

"I didn't see anything," she whispers quietly, looking longingly over the parts of me she can see and then into my eyes. "Tonight, I mean. Before you came."

I knew that already... Emily and Alice had stopped the despicable unveilings in their tracks...

But even if Alice hadn't have told me that, one look at Isabella's face did. What she'd seen, and _hadn't_. And was glad to have not. Because I think she was afraid she'd see _everything_.

And maybe she would have... Rose probably paid extra for a _full _reveal... bitch.

"I know that, sweetheart."

"Good. It's important to me that you do."

"I know that, too," I tell her, and smile with how much I do.

"Did Emmett–"

She doesn't finish asking me what she wants to know, and bites her lip to still it again. And I don't like it this time. Seeing it and knowing why she is.

So I reach up and pull it free. "Don't do that. You can ask me. And you can want my answer to be no."

"Is it?" she asks now.

And I do answer with a "No." And a "Because he did... _but_... I didn't look. Because the only thing I wanted to see was somewhere else. Thankfully seeing nothing she didn't want to. And that I definitely didn't want her to."

She smiles at me now... sweetly. Purely. And holds nothing back from me. "The seconds... and minutes... and months of... even though somethings I needed... and needed you to give me...

"I didn't love them, either."

_I know, my beautiful girl. _

"And Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"I can't wait to see _everything_ you want to show me."

And then her sweet, pure laughter floats up and out and into the salvaged night...

Because I sink down into the water in front of her like a stone.

A hard...

HARD...

Stone.

* * *

**Isabella**

I didn't see anything I didn't want to tonight, despite Rose's stupid, selfish efforts.

Because Edward didn't let me.

And didn't hide from me what he _hasn't _been selfish about, no matter how painful it was for him not to be.

Even Jasper let me see something good...

Showed me...

When he gave in a little more. Let me be closer than he was to my good... even though putting himself closer to it was...

I can't even describe how happy it made me. That he was by Edward's side tonight. When it wasn't even to watch me be...

The only thing that would make me happier than that did is if he would be there on another. Right beside him...

To watch me begin my forever of being.

Edward asked him to be...

Said no one else belonged there...

Even though he was sure he'd say no...

Just like he did...

But that night isn't here yet. That twilight of a night...

And as long as it isn't... and hasn't passed us by... and I'm still in this bed instead of another... seeing everything else I want to see...

I won't give up hope.

That I'll see that.

And that the only person who will be selfish will be Edward.

In the way he's waited seconds, and minutes, and interminable months to be...

With me.

* * *

I've been to the cemetery every morning this week.

Because who's here won't be able to share my perfect day with me.

And it's hard...

Knowing that. And thinking it could be perfect without them. Because without them it can't be. Could never...

And I want it to be. Wish I could make it... with all of my heart, I do...

I miss them so much... and wish so badly that they were here. With me. With us...

And I know I'm not the only one. Missing them. And wishing it for that day and every other.

"Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi."

My brother's pain is hard to see. And not something I've seen often.

I knew he felt it... but like with most everything else...

He never really let me see it if he could not. If he could hide it from me.

Because he thought that letting me see it would hurt me in some way. More than I already was.

But that's not possible. "I'm sorry that they're not here. And that I'm all that is... "

_Oh, Jasper... _"I'm sorry that they're not, too... but not that you are. Never that you are. And _always _have been."

"I tried, Isabella... I really did. I know I screwed up... a lot... but I swear I tried... to be... "

"I know that, Jasper. Don't ever think I don't know. Or don't know how lucky I was–_am_–to have you. And you love me so much."

"I do. So much... "

"I know that."

"I really am sorry."

"Don't be. Please. You did good."

"I'm really glad that you're a real girl and not a little wooden boy... because your nose–"

"Would still be _exactly _the same size."

He shakes his head and smiles at me, and then looks back down. "What can I do, Isabella? Is there anything? Anything at all? Or is it too late?"

"Are you going somewhere?" I ask him, because no matter what he's beating himself up about right now, the fact that he's always been _here _to do it and everything else is what's important to me. And will always be the most.

"No... _you _are."

"Not far," I tell him now. "I'll still be practically right under your nose... just not literally. And that's a good thing, not a bad, because it's about time you had a chance to breathe something other than me."

"I had that chance once. I didn't like it. And couldn't breathe at all, if you really want to know. And didn't like what I did when I had to. It was bad. _Wrong_."

"We were just out of dusting polish and you bought the wrong kind. But you're stocked now... with the right. I made sure of it. And that you wouldn't run out of anything else... and left lists for when you did... so everything would be–and smell–the way you like it."

"All of the cans of the right dusting polish in the world won't–"

"I know."

"No you don't... "

"I do, Jasper. Because I'll miss you, too."

"Yeah, right... "

"I _will_. And you asked me if there was anything you could do... but you already know that there is. And how much it would mean to me. And how much it truly will hurt me if you don't do it."

Because saying no to standing beside Edward isn't the only thing he's said it to. My brother has never actually agreed to walk me down the aisle.

I talk as though he will... and imagine it that way, because I can't imagine it any other...

But he _hasn't _agreed.

Because not blocking my path to Edward–and his to me–is different for him than taking me down it. And handing me over... even though he sort of did that the other night...

And he said he just couldn't.

Again and again and again he said it. To me and to everyone else who bitched at him for it.

I didn't bitch...

Because I understand.

But I asked. Sweetly. And purely. Again and again and again.

Like I am now. Sort of.

But with more of a panic in my heart. Because we're running out of time. _Have _run out of it.

The wedding is tomorrow.

And Sam is ready... to take his place if he lets me down...

And Ethan's... who never did... no matter what he did wrong... that took him away from me... from us...

But it's not what I want. And won't make my day as perfect as it could be.

"I'd look pretty silly walking down the aisle with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a stuffed monkey in the other. Please don't make me look silly, Jasper. Please?"

"What would you be wearing?" he asks me, staring at Ethan's headstone with a helpless desperation that breaks my heart.

"Well, I really _want _to wear my beautiful dress," I tell him, and then try to cut the painful tension. "The one that I promise doesn't show any leg... or anything else that would upset you or... worry you. For me."

"I think I'd rather you were showing a little leg... " he starts... but then shakes his head. At himself. "Which you know is a lie. Like... "

"Like?" I repeat after a moment, because I want to know what else is. What I hope he was going to say before he didn't.

"Like Edward's promises to you. And to me for."

I shake my head–at him–and walk away. Because that's _not _what I wanted to hear. Or thought I could after everything Edward has proven to both of us...

"That didn't come out right... " he calls after me, his steps close behind. "It's not what I meant to say."

"Then say what you did," I demand, and turn to face him. "And remember where we are. And how wrong it is that we have to be."

"I know where we are, Isabella... " His voice trembles with the pain of knowing. "And I know how wrong it is. And how much one of the reasons we are is my fault... You don't _ever _have to remind me of that. I _know_. And–"

"I would never do that. Or think it. And I _never _have.

"I was just a little girl, Jasper... but you weren't much more than a boy... and what happened... was _not _your fault."

"If I'd have just been paying attention... the right way... "

"Pay attention _now_, Jasper. The _right _way. And see that nothing bad has happened to me. Right under your nose or out from under it. And don't go too far. Learn from Ethan's mistake. Do what he can't now. Do it for me–and him–_because_ he can't.

"Because he killed someone because he thought they hurt me... or might if left to live... but you'll kill _me _if you continue to wrongly think that someone else will."

"I don't think that."

"Then why did you–"

"I didn't mean to. I told you it came out wrong. I didn't mean that Edward had lied... or that I thought he had. Or think it now...

"I meant that he _hadn't_. And that I was lying to myself when I did think it. And told myself I still had to despite what I could see. The truth that I could."

_Thank you, Jasper... _But as much as it means to me to hear those words from him...

Actions would mean so much more. "So, tomorrow... ?"

He looks back across the grass to where tomorrows never come the way they should...

The way _I'd _kill for them to...

And gives me the best wedding present he could.

Himself. "I'll take you to him."

* * *

"Thank you... for spending the day with me. I'm sure there were other things you wanted to do."

_Nothing that was more important than you... or taking away the sadness in your eyes because you were sure I'd say no... _"You're welcome. And likewise. About your entire _life_... that you spent with–and taking care of–me."

"I wouldn't change a minute of it, Isabella. Not the ones that I actually was, and not just thinking I was and fucking it up."

"There weren't many of those," I tell him honestly, because there weren't. And not a single one until he thought what I wanted most–and who finally wanted me the same–would risk or hurt me me in a way he never did. "And not nearly as many as the good ones. So few, in fact, that they aren't even worth mentioning. Ever again. Or beating yourself up over now."

"I wish you weren't so forgiving. And so willing to forget, or sweep under your perfectly placed rug, the things people have done to hurt you. Or could do..."

"He won't do anything to hurt me, Jasper. I think–_believe_–that you know that in your heart. And know that you've even admitted it... to both of us... in _almost _every way you could.

"And don't forget–or pretend–that I didn't beat every one of you who hurt me with that rug before I put it back into perfect place. I have a temper, too. And can be kind of mean sometimes."

He smiles at that, that thing he can't deny, and then his face changes. And he tries to impart one more piece of advice. A last, perhaps, or at least, he may think is, since his eyes are so desperate. "Don't forget that you can be... _IF _you ever need to be. Or should, no matter how hard it is for you find fault with that person you think can do no wrong."

"I promise. And that if I can't bring myself to... I'll let _you _for me. If you promise not to waste time waiting for it to happen, because, with all of my heart, I don't think it will."

"It better not."

I smile at him now, not mad at his threat, because he wouldn't be my brother if he didn't make it...

And ask for one more thing from him. "Can I ask you something? Or _for_, rather?"

He lets out a gush of breath but nods. "Of course you can _ask_..."

_As long as you hear me, it might be enough... _"You said you'd take me to him... and you'll never know how much it means to me that you did... and that you will... but can you just _think _about what else it would mean so much if you could do? And where you could take _yourself_? _After _you do?" _Please, Jasper...please please please..._

He looks at the ring on my finger–the one I have to give him credit for not trying to pull off of it when he first saw it there, or anytime since–and shakes his head. "Just because you've forgiven, Isabella, doesn't mean that he has. Don't think that his sweeping it under your rug means that. Because I think he only did that for you. Because dealing with the mess _I _made was more than enough for you, and he didn't want you to have any more."

_Well, you opened the door... or lifted the rug..._ "Isn't that just further proof of how much he loves me? And doesn't want me to ever hurt?"

"You're always thinking, aren't you?" he asks, instead of answering my question. "About him? And how you can put him in the most complimentary, perfect light?"

And my answer is so easy... "Yes. But that's because he deserves to be in it. And has earned being. More than earned, Jasper...

"And for you to stand beside him again. So that you can see... and hear... from the _nearest _possible place... him promise to always."

"You seem so sure that he wants me there..."

"I am."

"I'm not."

"He asked you to be. Even though he knew you'd say no... and still doubted him... he _still _asked you."

"But maybe that was for you, too..."

"On some level, maybe. But not only for. He loves you, Jasper. No matter what's been said... or done... he never forgot all of the years of what was before. And what no one could ever surpass. _You're _his best friend. And he's _yours_. And was a better one to you that anyone could have been. And better to me because of you. Because he'd do ANYTHING for you. And DID. So much...

"Please remember that. Don't sweep it under a rug. Any rug. And remember that he asked you _after _you acted like you'd forgotten. And that none of it meant anything to you anymore...

"_Please_, Jasper. Want to protect me above all else, but don't hurt me yourself by _hurting _him. I'm begging you."

* * *

Jasper never responded to my plea...

But I know he heard me. And felt what it meant. And not just because he watched the tears trickle down my cheeks by the time I got to the end of it. And not because he wiped them away with love for me.

But because what I said was true. And real. Something he knew–and felt–in his own heart.

I know boys are supposed to be tough... and strong... and the ones I love are... couldn't be more of either...

But it's not all they are.

And though they'd never say it out loud... they do love each other. In that tough guy way.

We wouldn't be here now if they didn't. If they hadn't stuck by each other. Through everything... good and bad.

And I know Jasper's thinking about that now. That he has been since I asked him to. To think... and to remember... and to forgive that betrayal he felt when Edward stopped denying he loved me, too. In a way that was special... and different... new, in every possible way for him...

And still, when he grabs his keys from the table and walks to our front door...

Looking at me with his hand gripped fiercely around the knob...

That he turns with _his _forgiveness.

And my heart to beautiful, happy mush with it.

And his answer. "I'll be at Edward's if you need me. Or _us_..."

* * *

**Edward**

Isabella is spending the day with Jasper, so when I hear the hard knock on my door, I'm sure it's Emmett, trying for the hundredth time to drag me out for my, as he calls it, 'last night of life'. Even though he's jealous of the one I'll live...

So, I'm more than a little surprised when I open it with my broken record "NO" and see Jasper standing on the other side of it. "Sorry, I thought you were Emmett."

"No such luck."

"Are you kidding me? If I have to hear or look at him one more time today, I'll need Sam to cover up his murder."

"I'll help with that covering up if you make it a double and kill his sidekick-in-stupid along with him."

"With pleasure. And I might even be willing to do the time for that one–a life sentence even–if the one I'll have the honor of starting to serve tomorrow wasn't waving its pretty white bow at me."

I wait for the_ I CAN STILL KILL YOU, YOU KNOW_ glare, but it never comes. And instead he asks if he can come in.

And I don't answer that, instead just moving aside so he can. He, and his gratitude. "Thanks for today. For letting me have her to myself."

"You don't have to thank me for that, Jasper. She's going to miss you just as much as you'll miss her. She _wanted _to spend the day with you. Before she's stuck spending them all with me."

"Talk about a life sentence someone's dying to serve..."

"It means the world to me, you know... that she is."

"It better."

"It does. And that won't change. And neither will the fact that you're her brother, who she loves more than you'll probably ever know, and can spend the day with anytime she wants to. Any day."

"That's generous of you."

"Well, I'll get all of her others, so..."

"I know."

_I know you do..._ "Is she at home now?"

"Yeah. I wanted to talk to you without her watching. Or listening."

"Is this the part where you kill me? And ask Sam to help you cover up _my _murder?"

"No. I don't want to do that. Not anymore, anyway."

"Want something to drink?" I ask him, instead of why he _is _here. Because he doesn't look like it's easy for him to be. Not easy at all.

In fact, he looks so much like it isn't that it reminds me of how he looked the day we found out Ethan was never coming home when his sentence was served. Because someone else had issued him a new one... a death sentence... and carried it out... with a despicable 'homemade' blade... just because he tried to help another someone who was weaker and more vulnerable than he was...

To try to save a life to in some way try to make up for the one he took... though, in my opinion, he shouldn't have had to pay any price for taking it. He should have been put up on a pedestal higher than any I've ever seen, or certainly ever been on, for that... what he did to protect her...

And because he was just that kind of person. The protective kind... and the caring... and the selfless... if it was in his living and breathing power to be...

"Yeah. Whatever you've got," Jasper finally answers, pulling me from the painful ones we live with everyday. And without...

"I think I have a few beers left in here," I say, and head to the kitchen to grab us each one.

And when I head back with them, he's plucking his fingers over the strings of my guitar, one of the only things still here, since after tomorrow, I won't have to come back to this place. To sit alone and try to pluck away my painful frustrations... the seconds, and minutes, and months of them I've managed to endure for her... the reason he's here, I'm sure. For _her_...

"You sang for her..." he says before I can say anything. "In front of people. People besides me. And her... You sang for her in front of _everyone_."

"Well, I had to do something epic to one up that damn fireman teddy bear she thought was so cute."

He laughs, at me, a laugh like I haven't heard from him in a long time. And didn't think I'd ever hear again... "I never thought I'd see you jealous of anyone. For anything... but for a woman? That was definitely EPIC."

He's not talking about that day I sang to her. There were no teddy bears present on the day he means. The first time I got jealous. The day when everything changed. The day he stopped laughing at anything. The day he started to hate me. And maybe himself.

But I won't go back _there _with him. To that day the look on his face now tells me he's back in, and reliving. So I focus on the one thing, the one person, he could never hate. "Yeah, well... your little sister can be mischievous and conniving. When she thinks she has to be."

"And _effective_," he adds, though I sure as hell knew that already.

"Yes, she is definitely that. Too."

"Clearly. Though she wasn't mischievous and conniving that day. The day you were jealous of the bear, instead of the fireman who gave it to her. Or on the one before it... the night... when he gave us _all _something... after I almost cost us everything... because I was...

"Well, I don't know what I was exactly, but much worse than anything she could ever do or be... the day after the one when I told her I'd try. The day that I _lied_. And the day that I'll never, EVER, until the day I die, forget. Or be able to forgive myself for."

I don't want to relive the day he's talking about now, either. Never want to relive it...

And I'm still not sure why he's here. Or what he's trying to do now... I only know that he is. Trying. And will be somewhere else tomorrow, trying even harder... for her...who it's _all_ for. Everything we both try to do.

And have for so long... though we did it as a team once. Which, no matter what's changed or happened since, I'll never forget.

And because I won't, and because I think he might most like to forget the events of another day... one that came before all of the rest of those regretful ones... and one that he, no matter how hard he tries, may never be able to truly forgive me for...

"I'm sorry for you that I was weak, Jasper," I tell him, because I feel like I owe him that much. To take that responsibility. "To what she is... " But he needs to understand that that's the only way I'll take it. And the only way I'm sorry for it. "But NOT for her. I'll _never _be sorry that I was for her."

"You'd hurt her if you were," he says without so much as a pause for a breath, that truth undeniable, even for him. "And on that day... the day that _I _hurt her so much it nearly killed her...

"You were anything but weak, Edward. You were strong from the minute I showed up at Sam's. And through all of the minutes after that I tried to make you out to be something else.

"You were strong for _her_. You put _her _first. I thought I was... and fighting to... but _you _were the one who did. And who protected her. And who knew where to look for her... where to find her... when I ripped that safety net you put her in away. And then ripped it to tatters. And her heart...

"And when we did find her... where _you _knew she'd be... was trying to get to because _I _made her need to... you were _still _stronger. Because you beat me to her. With the strongest fight I'd ever seen in a man.

"And you wouldn't budge from that spot once you did. That place with her... where _I _put you before you put yourself there... where... Fuck, this is hard!... where you... _should _be... because no one... not even me... could ever protect her better. Or take care of her better... the _right _way...

"Like you did on that night. So much more right. And so much better... because you stayed strong while I stood and watched helplessly... and weakly... so despicably weakly...

"Just wishing it was me instead. Crying. Praying. _Begging _God... that _I _would be punished, _not _her... but that I wouldn't be _through_... not again... "

He stops. Relives those moments again. The ones his trying is all because of. And, though I wish he wouldn't, would just let them go, I let him. And hope that his doing it–doing it here, in front of me–means he's trying to.

And after I watch those moments pound their relentless fists one after the other over him... and into... he nods his head. And lets out a heavy breath. And then downs half of his beer and looks at me. "And I wasn't. Wasn't made to pay that ultimate price again. I _didn't _lose her that night. Her... who I've lived and breathed for to try to make up for what it was my fault was taken from her on one so long before it...

"But I did lose something. Because I forgot again after it how strong you'd been. That night and always. For her. And for me.

"And how I said I'd try again–though I shouldn't have had to... say I'd try... because you'd earned _effortless _from me–while she slept in that hospital bed between us...

"I _lost_ something. Something important. _Someone_. Someone second in importance only to her.

"I lost _you_. Because I was too weak to remind myself of that. Too weak to admit I was wrong. To you. And too weak to call you my friend. The best one I–or anyone–could ever have had. And the most selfless. And, on everything that's pure and true and real, the most generous.

"And I... I'm _sorry_, Edward. That I was so fucking weak."

I take a swig of my own beer now, and look down at my guitar, and think about how hard some things are to do. When you have an audience.

Jasper's never been one to worry about that... or what anyone would think about those parts of him he let people see... the ones that never could have been seen as weak...

The fighting parts. The fierce...

Because they were for her. That beautiful girl we both love. Who, I have no doubts about, is what this was for. Or what brought him here, at least.

I had asked Jasper to be my best man. To stand beside me on the day I would finally become one...

It wasn't hard... even knowing he would say no...

Because, no matter what had happened, I just couldn't imagine anyone else there. In that place...

And yes, it hurt that he didn't want to be there...

But not as much as it hurt later. Because it hurt Isabella. It broke her heart. Took the happiness right out of her eyes and off of her face and replaced it with tears.

And knowing he spent this day with her...

And knowing _her_...

And how much she wants everything to be perfect...

And right...

And that time was almost up to make it... "You didn't lose anything, Jasper."

"Just like that?"

"No, It was _always _like that."

"She's not here, Edward. She's not watching. Or listening–"

"She _is _here."

"Okay, yes, she is, but not only. I–"

"I know. And I know that you being here is like me singing to her that night. In front of everyone...

"It's not an easy thing. And, like you didn't for me that night–and, believe me, I know you could have, and probably suffered actual physical pain from not–not something I'm going to make harder. And not just because she wouldn't like it."

"The only thing that caused me physical pain was having to listen to you SING."

I laugh and take another swig of my beer–and flip him off–but the light moment is over before I've even swallowed it. "Why, then? WHY aren't you?"

"You're going to make me say it?"

"There's a lot of things you should say."

"Maybe... but you said most of them for me. Though calling yourself weak isn't one of those things, because I'd never say that. Or think it."

"You're not that nice, Edward. Say what you REALLY feel. Because, again, she _isn't _here. And will never hear it."

"What I _really _feel? She doesn't have to hear it, Jasper, because she already knows."

"No she doesn't. Because you'd never tell her something so ugly."

"Ugly? I don't think it's ugly... a little 'sweet', perhaps, for the raging bull MEN that we are... but not ugly."

"_What_?"

"So, you _are _going to make me say it? Fine. I'm MAN enough.

"I love you, you fucking idiot. And I never stopped just because I fell in love with her. Or because you hated me for it. And I never didn't consider you my friend. My BEST. Even though you acted like a complete asshole to me for most of the last year. Because I already knew you were that, which is probably why we were best friends all of the ones before it... two peas in a pod, so to speak..."

He stares at me for a minute, the apology I heard before my declaration of my acceptance of it repeating itself in his silence. And then I see my friend again. And hear him... the asshole... "Jesus, Edward, when the fuck did you get so sweet and sappy? Did my sister do that to you?"

"_Effective_, remember?"

"Yeah... _pussy_."

I flip him off again, and then shrug helplessly. Though it's not exactly the term I'd use to describe myself... "So, are you really going to make me stand there by myself tomorrow? Or are you going to man up and take your place next to me?"

"You mean my place that you asked Emmett to fill?"

"What the hell are you talking about? I didn't ask Emmett to fill anything."

"He said you did."

"Well, if he said I did, he _lied_."

"Maybe he didn't say you asked him... but he definitely said he was the best man. Repeatedly."

"He's Emmett, he probably meant it in the _literal _sense."_ Fucking idiot..._

"That too, I'm sure, but no... he meant for the wedding."

"Well, then that's just what he appointed himself. And _not _something I approved or agreed to. And not what I want."

"What you _want _still makes my blood boil."

"I know. But... ?"

"But I'll already be up there anyway... bringing her to you... "

"So... ?"

"_So_, what's an extra couple of steps. You know... since it would CLEARLY mean the world to your sappy ass."

He smirks at me...

And it's like looking in a fucking mirror...

And then he drains his beer and smacks me on the shoulder and shoves me towards my front door. "Come on... she may have been willing to spend the day with me... but not seeing you for the whole of it didn't make her happy. And certainly didn't make her smile. And if I EVER see anything but a smile on her face ever again–"

_You won't, Jasper..._ "NEVER. GONNA. HAPPEN. _DARLIN_."

**xx**

**I KNOW! What you wanted... but this thing was already a beast when I got to this point, so... THE NEXT ONE, I PROMISE. And that's a promise with no ifs. And no maybes. And no 'I'll try's. Cross my mushy heart. And hey... at least we answered one mystery, right? It's something?**

**Like the conversations in this one, that I think were. And necessary (mostly). To get everyone where they belonged. Because they weren't all there yet. And 'yet'... well, you know how important that is! At least, you better.**

**And just a little FYI... I've been posting sneak peeks of YET on my author fb page. Pretty peeks. So, if you want to see them, come find me and tell me and I'll add you.**

**Thanks for reading. And for your patience. See you on THE NEXT ONE. xo**


	3. Chapter 3: And Then Forever

**Chapter Three: And Then Forever**

**Edward**

It's three o'clock in the morning and I can't sleep.

Because it's the last night I'll do it alone. Or anything else I've had to while I've waited to not...

This time tomorrow morning Isabella will be next to me. Isabella, my _wife_.

And that 'next to me' will come after she's in front of me...

Walking towards me to be next to me in another way. So that I can vow to her that she'll always be.

After which...

After seconds and minutes and hours...

But no more than a single evening of...

She'll be in front of me again.

In a way I've never seen her.

_Because _she'll be my wife.

Because in less than a day's worth of hours I'll make her.

Before the night's worth that follows before I can again.

When I can carry her through our front door for the first time...

And know that I'll never have to carry her back out of it. Or lead or walk her through it to go back to or through another...

I'll never have to tell her no again. And she'll never have to tell me. Not that I ever made her...

Not out loud...

Because when you love a girl enough to make her your wife, you see and feel the _no_s before she has to say them.

I certainly tried to, anyway. Though once or twice she told me I was seeing things...

And feeling...

Things that weren't there...

And she may have been right, may have meant it with all of her heart...

But I didn't want to take any chances. That her body was _confusing_ her heart.

There are things I think she would have let me do...

Wanted me to do, even...

To her...

And God knows I wanted to do them...

But I just couldn't. Because I knew if I did I'd only want to do more.

And, though she trusted me completely, I didn't–couldn't risk her to–trust myself enough.

And will carry my wife through our front door with nearly everything in front of us.

Everything there is to do...

See...

Feel...

And hear.

None of which will be a _no_. Unless she's afraid.

Something I don't think she'll be. Or, like me, is losing sleep over now. Because she won't do that until it's _for_. And that's...

Something that scares _me_.

Because it will be a first for both of us. One for her in _every _way... and, even though not for me in most, not not in every. Because it will be in one very important way.

I've never been with a woman I loved. Or cared about at all, let alone...

And that's...

Fuck. I'm not just scared...

I'm terrified. Of, like I told her she couldn't, doing it wrong. Taking what she's waited so long to give me. Saved for only.

Of course I don't doubt my abilities...

Isabella will very soon know _exactly_ how hard waiting has been for me...

But I'm not so cocky that I don't know she probably won't know immediately. Won't be moaning or screaming that knowing the first time. And, if she does either, will likely only be because it hurts instead of feels good.

Because I'm not an idiot.

But, even though I'm not, I know most of all that the pleasure I'll make her feel soon after–hopefully the very next time–isn't what the first is all about for her. It isn't at all. It's about so much more...

Something so much deeper than where I'll finally be...

Inside of her...

And I don't want to ruin it for her. Disappoint her or let her down. By doing it wrong.

That thing that's more important than anything else...

To both of us.

Loving her...

The right way.

Something I'm afraid I won't know how to do.

* * *

**Isabella**

It's completely dark when I wake up in my bed. Telling me that it won't be the last time I do. Because it tells me, before the clock on my nightstand even can, that it's still only the middle of the night. Before the one when I'll be sleeping somewhere else.

In another bed. And not alone.

Like I am now. Which scares me for a second...

Because I know that what made me wake up was a noise. And thinking someone was in here with me, making me not alone at all.

But then my eyes adjust...

And I'm not scared anymore. Because someone is, but this someone would never hurt me.

And didn't come in here to. "I'm sorry," he tells me as I sit up. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," I tell him. "I don't mind that you did."

He sighs and wipes his eyes, and the evidence of that noise that woke me, and stands up. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I really am sorry."

But I meant it when I said that it was okay. Because he meant everything he said and did yesterday when I was awake.

Before I laid my head down on my pillow in our house for what was to be the last time. Or so I thought...

The last time that the arrival of was sooner than he ever could have expected.

And the last time that made him cry, because it is.

"Come here," I tell him, before he can get to the door, and pat the bed beside me.

"You gave me the whole day, Isabella. You don't have to give me any more. And I sure don't want to be responsible for dark, sleepless circles under your eyes on the one you've waited your whole life for."

"Well, I don't want to be responsible for any under yours, either. Or red, puffy ones around them."

"You won't be. I'll take full responsibility for those."

"Come. Here," I repeat, because he still hasn't moved. Or his eyes from me.

And he sighs again, sorrowfully, but does what I asked. Or told him to do that time...

Come closer...

And sits down on the bed next to me. "You know, when you were at Sam and Emily's, I would come in here sometimes in the middle of the night and just sit in that chair... staring at your empty bed... "

"I thought we were letting that all go?" I try to remind him when he trails off, "And focusing on the todays? And the tomorrows?"

"We are... but I was thinking about some things when I was sitting there. This time, I mean. And they're important. Too important to let go of."

"What things?" I ask him, because if they're important to him, then I want to hear what they are.

"Well... how much it hurt to."

"Jasper..."

"_Then_," he clarifies with a sad but sweet smile. "Mostly. Because this _is _today, and, for the moment, anyway, it's not empty. You're still in it."

I return his sad but sweet with an understanding nod of my head. And a quiet, so that he can say what he wants to say. Finish telling me about important.

"But thinking about that hurt made me think about yours. And I think I finally understand some of the things you do to comfort yourself when your heart is breaking. Or, understand _better_, anyway.

"Like why you've kept so many of Ethan's things all of these years... and wrapped yourself in them... in him... the only way you could.

"Why that monkey..." he continues, smiling at it where I now hold it in my lap, "besides that it was from Edward... meant–still means–so much to you. And comforts you when you're sad... or merely just closing your eyes to another day that our dad wasn't able to tuck you in after. His precious little monkey... who earned that name from him before you could even walk. Because you climbed–on and up everything you could–before you did. Because you knew where you wanted to be. And didn't want to be kept where you didn't. Waiting for someone to come and take you...

"You only slept in your crib for a year... because that's when you started trying to climb out of it. Dad was sure you were going to fall and bust your cute little head... because every time he caught you trying to, you were farther and higher than you'd been the last. It was only a matter of time–and your little monkey determination–before you'd get to the top of the rail and tumble over it.

"He used to sleep in your room... in the chair in the corner... just in case. Hoping he'd hear you and wake up as soon as you stirred, or that you'd see him and call for him instead of just silently try to get to him... silently and fearlessly...

"He came home one night from work with about 20 new fluffy pillows that Edward and I helped him carry in from the car. He laid them all over the floor around your crib and said at least they'd cushion your fall if you did...

"It made sense to me... but Edward was the one to ask the questions that made more. _Why don't you just get her a big girl bed? That sits on the floor or something? So she can't fall at all?_"

"And what did he say?" I ask him, because his story has stopped and he's staring down at my bed that we sit on. The new one that he got me when we moved into this house.

"He said that he was glad that he had a brain. And to grab a couple of new pillows to rest it on, and a couple for his mom, too, and that he'd give him–and the new pillows–a ride home. _After _we went shopping with him to help him pick one out. Because doing that was so much better than his idea..."

I smile at the picture that develops in my head...my dad, Jasper, and Edward choosing that adorable bed that all of my fairy tale dreams began in.

And where I think he's going with this. "It's going to kill me to walk past this room and see the bed that you've decided you've grown out of this time... see it _empty_...

"And even more so knowing Edward chose the one you'll be climbing into every night..." He groans and squeezes his eyes shut, the 'kill' already pounding its fist as his clenches. That makes me fight a giggle...

"_But_... just like then, instead of focusing on cushioning your impending fall when you tried to get to that somewhere else you wanted to be...

"He made sure you wouldn't. Because he gave it to you. The very place you were trying to get to. And would have kept trying to get to, with more determination than you'd ever shown any of us, no matter how dangerous the path to it was. Or who or what you had to climb over.

"He made you safe by giving you a place you could be. The place you will always. Because you'll be happy... so happy that you'll never try to climb out again."

"I know I've been asking for a lot lately," I say, "but can I ask you for one more thing?"

"What's that?"

"When you walk past this room... and this empty bed... tomorrow or a hundred tomorrows from now... or even if you end up in that chair over there staring at it...

"Will you try to remember that? That you believe that? That I'm safe and happy in another? And not let it kill you? Or hurt you at all?"

"I can't promise you that," is his answer. And I know it's the only one he could give me. "You might just have to remember that I know it now."

"Okay..." I tell him, telling him that I will, "but there's one more thing I want _you _to remember. And that's that you stood right here in this room and helped me unpack my things right on this bed... the day I came back home to sleep in it... and found something of _yours_."

_That gave me comfort..._

_Even after everything else you had._

* * *

The next time I wake up in my bed _is _the last time I will.

Because it's light this time.

Lighter and brighter than it's ever been before, I think.

Ever in the history of life's days...

Because this is mine.

A day I won't need comfort from a cute little monkey. Or a man's once worn clothes. Or any, by the end of it...

I bite my lip at that last thought...

In a way that I think Edward would like. And smile at. And in a way that I think I'll see him do later... at the end of this dream come true day...

That's just beginning...

And will in a way my brother will like. Since it's the last one we'll begin together in our house. That I jump–not climb–out of bed and run through so that I can.

After I do necessary, though far less important things...

After which I do, I run down the stairs to our kitchen. Wearing no dark circles under my eyes–believe me, I looked hard but found none–to match the dark blue t-shirt of my brother's that I slept in. The one I put on after he left my room. Not because I needed comfort...

But because when he wakes up, I want him to see. And remember. And understand. Though I hope he already does. Did...

But you never know with Jasper. He can be kind of dumb sometimes...

When he's being hard on himself. And thinking he's not important. To me.

Seriously... so dumb...

But, my day or not, I'm going to make him know that he is. Important. To me. Starting with his favorite breakfast.

That he catches me making. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Jasper... " I turn to look at him, clutching my heart with Oscar-worthy despair, "this is called _cooking_. It's what you do to food so that you can eat it... "

He shakes his head with a _You're such a brat_ smirk, but then he smiles. Because he knows, just like I know I'm largely to blame for his spoiled cluelessness, that he's just as much for my bratty not.

And because he sees what I'm wearing. "I wondered where that shirt was. It disappeared from my drawer. There one morning, gone the next."

His playful-intended words turn around and slap him in the face right before my eyes...

But then he smiles at me again. Showing me that he's trying to remember that other thing that I asked him to. "So, um... since you're already doing it... _cooking_, I think you called it? I'll let you finish doing it... but can I ask you a question?"

"You're going to starve..." I whimper, wiping pretend tears from my eyes, but then smiling a real smile because I know Alice won't let that happen. "Yes. Especially if it's how to turn on the stove, which is this big thing I'm standing in front of, just in case you're confused."

_He'd so flip me off right now if I was Edward or Emmett... _

But I'm not. I'm me. And he definitely hasn't forgotten that. "Does your fairy tale include superstitions?"

I don't know what I thought he was going to ask me, but it definitely wasn't that. "Superstitions?"

"Yeah. Like the one about the groom not seeing the bride before the wedding."

"Oh. No... I think that's stupid. And just something someone dreamed up because they were looking for an excuse or something. To blame a failed marriage on... or a shattered dream... instead of accepting responsibility for it themselves."

"You really are very grown up," he tells me. With a look of pride instead of one that says he wishes I wasn't.

"Sometimes," I say with one of my own. _You've come so far..._

"So, it won't ruin anything if I call Edward and invite him to come and have breakfast with us?"

_SO far... _"No," I tell him, "not for me."

Who's wiping away real tears now.

Because he hasn't forgotten anything.

* * *

**Edward**

I've been awake and unmoving in my bed for about twenty minutes. Thinking about last night when I was. And _why _I was...

And why I was wrong to be.

Not because all of the fear has left me...

But because Isabella loves me. And because I love her. More than anything or anyone in this world.

And because as long as I remember that... and let it guide me... instead of my scared brain...

I can't do today wrong. Or tonight. Or her...

Not _do _her...

Not in the despicable literal sense...

But in another. And every. That isn't either.

And makes me smile when I hear my phone ring. And then, though still, do it completely differently when I look at the screen and see that the ringing isn't her. "Good morning, _sweetheart_."

"Fuck you, dude... seriously... "

"Yeah, no thanks, actually," I laugh, "So, what's up?"

"It's not really what as much as it is _who_. And what she's doing."

"Making you sick with a because-of-me smile?" I ask, because I hope she is. And am cocky enough to be sure it is and want to rub it in his face just a little. For calling me a pussy yesterday, if for nothing else."

"That's everyday," he sighs, "but no, that's not what. The what is the other thing she does every. Making breakfast for me."

Well, that cocky feeling of power didn't last long... "Back at ya with that fuck you."

"Your grand total of cooked-by-my-sister breakfasts will far outnumber mine someday, so fuck _yourself_. And quit feeling sorry for, because I called to invite you to come and share my _last_."

"Jasper... I'm touched... "

"Shut up... "

I curb my sarcasm quickly because I honestly am. For a reason he may not have intended to give me with his invitation. "I mean it, actually. Because it will take years for my grand total to outnumber yours. And, though you may not have meant to, you just told me that you have faith in the fact that it will. And that I'll make her happy."

"YOU'LL MAKE HER HAPPY OR YOU WON'T LIVE TO EAT OR OUTNUMBER ANYTHING."

"Deal. But as for your invitation... I'd gladly accept it, too, but I'm not sure she'd be happy about that. Aren't there rules that say I have to stay away from her until the ceremony?"

"Well, I called it a superstition when I asked her basically the same thing, and whatever it is, she said it was stupid. With a smile that supported that sentiment. And starting-to-glisten eyes, so... "

"So, hurry my lucky ass up?"

"Why are you still on the phone asking me stupid questions?" he asks, giving me my answer.

And more than enough motivation to get out of this bed.

For the last time.

* * *

**Isabella**

"Thank you for not worrying about silly rules and superstitions."

"Thank you for existing," I say breathlessly, because Edward said what he did against the back of my neck. That he lifted my hair off of to do.

"And thank you for breakfast," he says, just an inch lower than where he thanked me first.

And since he hasn't had it yet... "The one that you're about to have?" I ask, even more breathless than before.

"No... " he whispers against the skin just under my ear this time, "I will thank you for that one, but that's not the one I mean. I mean the _other _one."

"You opened your present?" I ask him now, though his last answer already gave me the one to this before I asked it.

He spins me around, undoubtedly wanting to see the flush I wear because of what I gave him, and know he opened... "Yes, I did."

_And he liked it... _

_A lot._

_I don't have to ask him that._

_I can see it all over his gorgeous face..._

But did he wait to like I told him to? "Last night?"

"No. This morning. Just like you told me to."

_Good boy. Because opening it _today _was important._ "Well, thank you for listening to me. Because I really wanted you to wait. Until today... "

"I knew that... since you did tell me... but I assure you I knew more after I opened it. And after I took my first bite...

"Well... I never wanted to know anything else."

_I'm so glad, Edward... but I _do. "Was it worth it? Waiting for, I mean?"

His eyes bore into mine with words I can't hear–though am sure I can _feel_–and then he sweeps my hair from my face and smiles.

A _Soon, you won't be able to torment me _smile. A _Soon, I WILL be able to torment you _smile. A _And_ _I'm going to love every minute of tormenting you_ smile. And a _And so are you_ smile.

And I'm a _Whatever you say_ puddle of goo even though he said nothing.

And even before one of his long, beautiful fingers tilts my chin up. And before he pulls me even closer to him with that one long, beautiful finger under it. Closer until his breath tickles my lips, before he does with his own, answering my question with a slow, sweet kiss.

Sweet because he's Edward... but not only.

Because I can taste another sweetness on his tongue. The one I gave him. The gift. That he _did _have for breakfast, which I think he must have done no more than a few minutes ago, since I _can _taste it...

The untouched-by-anyone-but-me apple that I put into a pretty white box and tied a pretty white bow around. A silly gift, some might think, but one that I knew he wouldn't think was. Because he'd know it wasn't to me.

Knew all of that time he waited for it. Time that was much more than a night. Time that was seconds, minutes, hours, days, nights and months...

And time that's up. Because today is the day that I can give him everything.

All me because he's giving me all him. Something, like what I'll give him, that he's never given to anyone else.

"Yes it was," he says, the sweetness from the apple on his breath. And his... "And it was by far the best present I've ever been given."

"I hope you don't still think that tomorrow," I tell him, making him smile another smile. And myself blush redder than that apple I gave him. The one I want him to know was truly never in anyone else's hands. "But I'm glad you think it now. I was very patient... and spent a lot of time making sure I would give you as perfect of one as I could."

"I know that, sweetheart."

"I mean your breakfast," I say, as I pull away from him to get the other one on the table. "I went into a forest... okay, an _orchard_, technically, but since it was a place full of trees and good things I'll call it what I want...

"So, I went into the apple _forest_... and searched and searched and searched...

"It was frustrating... seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, but still I searched, because it was important...

"And then I saw it. The most perfect one I was ever going to find. Hanging there right above me... and looking content to be, I suppose, because being where it was was all it had ever known and it didn't know there was a better place..." I stop and glance up at him as he takes the platter of kept-warm-in-the-oven french toast from my hands, another smile on his face... one that I think says simply_ I love you_...

And then continue my tale because I love _him_. And want him to know just how much. "But I knew it wasn't really happy... because I knew there was... a better place...

"I knew getting it to that place wouldn't be easy... because getting _it _wouldn't be. But even in my short life of experience, I've learned that nothing worth it is, so...

"I stuffed my pockets with determination–and tucked my keys in there with it–and climbed up and grabbed it. Snatched it right off of that branch while it smirked at me, trying to tell me I couldn't."

"I never smirked at you when I told you you couldn't, Isabella," he says.

And he's right. He wasn't cocky or cruel when he was fighting me... not intentionally...

Standing rigid and strong up on that branch of another sort... the pedestal I'd put him on...

That _sweet_, delectable cruelty didn't come until after he stopped...

But I think he knows the moral of my tale.

And, perhaps unfortunately for me, did pay attention to every _detail _of... "And if you, my little _monkey _girl, ever climb another tree without me standing underneath it to catch you if you fall, I will–"

"I won't. Because I don't need to. I got what I wanted." _And don't think I want whatever you were going to say..._

He gives me a _I mean it_ glare... and then his jaw twitches ever so slightly... and then that sweet, delectable cruelty forms on his sweet, delectable mouth. "Though it's quite interesting the way you spun your little apple tale to make _me _the star of it... "

I look up at him innocently as he pauses... and he chuckles wickedly... telling me I won't be able to do that for much longer... which makes my cheeks feel hot... "_Me_ was not what I had for breakfast this morning. My _first _breakfast.

"And was _not _the tale I heard in my head when I pulled it out of that pretty box. With the pretty bow.

"And sure as hell wasn't the one you wanted me to hear when you put it into it and tied that pretty bow around it. And then put it in my hands. And told me to wait until today to open it."

Nope. It wasn't at all...

But... "A good tale–fairy or any other kind–to me... has _two _stars. And ends... most importantly... with them together. In each other's hands or... "

I leave it there, my words in the air, and my tale for him to finish...

Because it's his turn to tell it. What happens next. To me and to him...

And because Jasper is out of the shower now and has joined us in the kitchen. The kitchen that I won't be making breakfast in tomorrow morning...

Or the one after...

Because I'll be making it in another.

Because Edward told me I was his.

Just like I always wanted him to.

* * *

**Edward**

"What the fuck is going on here?" Emmett roars from behind us. The us that is Jasper, Sam, and I. And the here that is the house I want to make all of Isabella's fairy tale dreams come true in. After we get this ribbon tied around it so that I can tie it into a pretty bow for her.

Which is what the fuck is going on. But I don't feel the need to tell him that, since he can clearly see it for himself. So "What are you doing here?" is what I say instead.

"Looking for you!"

"Why? You'll see me soon enough."

"Because I wasn't sure Bella would!"

"What are you talking about, Emmett? Or yelling about, which you can STOP doing."

"STOP? Hell no I won't stop! Because I've been looking for you all day!"

"I could arrest you for disturbing the peace," Sam offers up, but Emmett just tells him to fuck off...

Before continuing to disturb it, though admittedly in a quieter voice. "I thought maybe you woke up this morning and freaked out. And skipped town or something. I was about to go to the airport and try to find out if you hopped on a flight to Yemen or–"

"You're an idiot."

"_I'm_ an idiot? I'm not the one who's getting married! No offense to Bella or anything... just, you know, _married_... "

I glare at him just in time to see him cringe. And then my glare gets harder, until I remember that he's spent the last almost year with Rose. Which makes _me _cringe...

And immediately clear my head of everything but what I'm here for. So that I can go somewhere else, before I turn around and come back. With the beautiful girl who could never make me anything but smile.

"Why aren't you dressed?" I ask him, because he should be already, just like the three of us are.

"Because I was looking for you! And not sure, since I couldn't find you, that I had a reason to be!"

"He was at our house all day," Jasper tells him, saving me the annoyed breath. "And you obviously didn't look very hard, since you didn't show up there."

"Why the hell would I look for him there, Jasper? The groom isn't supposed to see the bride before the wedding!"

"Well, his bride said he could. And will kill you if you mess up her becoming, so go get dressed."

_Not so much as a cringe, Jazz? Isabella would be so proud... _

But not as proud as she's about to be of me. "Let's go!"

Because this lucky idiot has a starring role in a wedding. And I'm ready to _smash_ it.

In every way she wants me to.

Because she gave it to me.

* * *

**Isabella**

"So, the new is covered easily... new dress, new shoes, new you-don't want-to-mentions... but what about the rest? I know I should have asked this sooner, but do you have old, borrowed, and blue somethings? Or am I the worst maid of honor in history?"

"You definitely aren't, Alice," I tell her, and think about those somethings I hadn't given any thought to before now either. "I have my locket. For the old." I touch my fingers to it against my chest and try not to be sad. Or _blue_...

And decide I don't want any of that, or anything I can't hold onto. "And old and new is all I need. Borrowed and blue aren't important to me. Because I'm a girl who likes to _keep _things. And, you know, because I like purple."

She smiles at me and does a little twirl in her deep purple dress, but it's the person who isn't doing either who catches my attention now.

"It's not too late, you know. There's still time to change your mind."

"Enough with the red dress."

"I'm not talking about that, even though I wish you would. I'm talking about what you want to do. In a white one."

"_Rose_."

"Okay, I know you never would, but... What if HE does? What if he isn't there, Bella? What if Edward _doesn't _show up, and leaves you in the middle of all those trees with nothing but mascara-colored tears dripping down your face and all over your pretty dress?"

_You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you, Rose? Couldn't just be the good friend?_

"What are you going to do? If all of these plans were for nothing? If all of your dreams are crushed? By the person they're all about?"

_Couldn't and still won't._

I've never wanted to hit anyone so much in my entire life...

But I don't. And won't do it, just like she won't stop trying to hit me.

Not today.

Because today won't be ruined. By her in any way.

Or be anything but right. For me in every.

After I make one change.

That will ensure both. Because there's one more thing I don't want or need. "Well, Rose... it won't be something you'll have a front row seat for. Or a standing not. Not to _see _it happen... but to not. Because Edward _won't _do that. And _will _be there. Letting everything be about him. But _you're_ going to have to take my word for that. Because you are right about something...

"It's _not _too late. And there _is _still time to change my mind... about today. MY day. The day that _someone _won't be there to share with me. Someone in another pretty dress... because you're going to take yours off."

"Bella–"

"No. Bella nothing. Not this time. Take off the dress, Rose. And leave it, and me, and my life... behind you."

She rolls her eyes at me and puts her hands up in insincere surrender. "Don't annoy the princess bride, I got it. I'm sorry, I won't say anything else. About the dress, or your prince who may never see you in it... not another word."

_Like you just did? _"It's too late for I'm sorrys, Rose. You never mean them and I'm tired of hearing them. Their emptiness and their easiness...

"I tried... so many times... but I'm done now. Because some things just aren't worth it. And today is about what is. And _who _is. And will not be about who isn't. And how much that person thinks I'm not."

"I didn't say that!"

"Yes you did."

"No, I–"

"Take. Off. The dress."

"This is hardly the time for one of your tantrums, Bella. For God's sake... "

"What's going on?" Jasper asks, Emmett right behind him as they come through the door.

"It's what's coming off, actually," I tell him. "There's been a change of plans. I've decided Rose won't be a part of today's anymore. _Any _part."

"What the hell did you do?" It's Emmett asking the question this time, and it's to Rose, not me.

But I'm the one who will answer. "She gave Edward and I a wedding present. The best one she could have. A wish for a beautiful, happy life... and a guarantee of one with it... because she took herself, and her ugliness, out of it for the last time. And now I'm just waiting for her to take herself out of that dress so that I can go start living it. And, since you're here, maybe you could help me with that part? To make up for the other night? Because, like both of you on that one, she's not respecting my wishes and cooperating now either."

"If he won't, I will, Bella." Alice breaks her uncharacteristic silence with a very contrary characteristic smile.

And then Emily, who I know was just trying to let me make my own decisions, and handle things my own way, breaks hers, too. "I could scrap."

Which makes me laugh, because I know she could. And _well_. Because I saw her do it once, when some stupid, unsuspecting-of-well girl tried to get Sam's attention.

But Emmett saw her, too. And obviously remembers it as well as I do. "Trust me, Rose, you don't want their help, sure as hell not Emily's. And you're not getting mine, not in any way you'd like, so just get moving and do what Bella wants."

"You're serious?" she asks, looking at me and no one else.

"Yes," I tell her, because I am. "And I truly hope that someday you understand why. And have a good friend beside you to be happy for you... and support you wanting to live a new and _better _life."

_Even though you couldn't be or do it for me._

* * *

"Are you sure, Bella? I have a mannequin at my house. Well, you saw her... we could stop on the way and–"

"I don't care about the numbers, Alice," I say and then laugh because, yes, I did see her lifesize doll.

"Is she hot?" Emmett asks from the front seat of Jasper's car, because Alice, Emily, and I are in the back.

"She looks like me." She answers his ridiculous question that the rest of us shake our heads at with a cocky smile. "So, _yes_."

And I may not care about the numbers, but Emmett sure does now. Though the ones he cares about are different... "Jasper, you secret-keepin freak! You've been gettin it on with twins this whole time!"

"You're about to get it on with some PAVEMENT, Emmett," he warns, telling me he's willing to even up those numbers for me too.

But I really don't care if they're even. Don't need them to be to be happy. Because in just a few minutes there will only be one number that matters.

Two becoming _one_.

* * *

**Edward**

"Right feels good, doesn't it?"

"Good? Good doesn't even come close, Sam."

"You think it doesn't _now_? Just wait, Edward. This is nothing compared to what's coming."

What's coming...

I think I know what he means, and can't wait for all of it, but right now I just want the _who_.

Want to see the smile on her face. The one that's sweet and sure and proud to be both. And to be the reason for mine.

Emmett asked me a few minutes ago why I didn't look nervous. Why all I did look was calm. And relaxed. And ready.

And I told him it was because I wasn't. And _was_...

Something that I hear myself repeat as I see her. Seeing me. Waiting for her with a smile that matches hers.

At least, I imagine it does. Because how could it be any different?

I'm about to get everything I want.

I may not have spent all of my life wanting it...

But the time I have has felt like a thousand lifetimes. Because I _have _spent most of mine with her. Seeing everyday how beautiful one could be.

I never thought of her in a man's arms... until I thought of her in my own...

But that didn't mean I didn't know the ones she'd end up in would be lucky to have her in them. So fucking lucky...

Because she's a gift.

Sent straight from God.

It's how I see her. How I _always _have, no matter how I didn't.

And how I couldn't possibly see her as anything but now. When she's walking straight for me. With a purpose that is all for.

And all powerful. Which makes me laugh...

Because it really is. She's practically dragging Jasper.

He's trying not to let her, but...

Yeah, he doesn't stand a chance.

And can't help but laugh, too. As he shakes his head at her impatience. To get to me.

Which is happening a little sooner than I expected. Sooner by seconds, only, but sooner nonetheless.

Because someone I expected to see first isn't here. And didn't lead her way. Before Emily did. And then Alice.

But since Isabella is smiling, and clearly in a hurry anyway, I won't waste another thought on it.

Or anything but her. Thoughts that could never be wasted.

Because she's...

She's...

Right here. "Hi there."

_God, she's beautiful... _"Hi _here_," I tell her, wanting her to have no doubt about how happy I am to be right where we are with her.

"The best here in the world," she tells me back, beaming the most beautiful smile I've ever seen, the doubt never existing for her. "Until you take me to ours."

"If I may," the minister interjects with his own smile, making me 'curtail' my most recent, "we have some matters of great importance to tend to in this one first, so... shall we?"

"Oh yes, please," Isabella answers so sweetly that it takes the breath from my lungs.

Not that the sight of her didn't already...

All dressed up for me in the fairy tale dress of her dreams. And those dreams bright and glistening in her eyes, already threatening to spill over and knock me to my knees.

Because her eyes always have the potential to do that to me, but never more than now...

"We are gathered here today... "

* * *

**Isabella**

I'll never forget the way Edward looked when I first stepped around the trees and into his sight.

The way he looked at _me_. And for.

I know he loves me, we wouldn't be here if he didn't, but the way he looked at me was...

_Edward_. Every Edward I've ever known. Or seen. In my dreams, or right in front of my wide open and wide awake eyes.

The beautiful Edward who takes my breath away a thousand times a day every.

The kind Edward. The gentle Edward. And the sweet.

The strong Edward. The confident. And the encouraging.

The protective Edward. And the possessive. And the makes-my-cheeks-warm cocky.

The BEAUTIFUL Edward... yeah, I know I said that already, but you're not looking at him. You can't see him right now. In his tux, looking at me in my dress. Looking so...

The _Edward _who's always loved me.

And the Edward who's _in _love with me now.

And telling me he is without a word as he stands here with me...

Listening closely to the minister's words... "Edward Anthony Masen and Isabella Marie Hale..." that I can barely hear over the thumping of my own heart because he is...

But that I will to ease and slow so that I don't miss any... "If anyone can show just cause why this man and this woman should not be–" or even Emmett's... "You really might want to skip that part, dude. I mean _Father_. Or..." which the minister hears but pretends not to "...lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

A few days ago I was terrified of this part...

But that was before Jasper had given Edward and I our gifts. And before I gave myself another by making a decision about what I no longer wanted in my life... just before we left my old...

And I'm _not _terrified now. Or afraid at all. And I know that Edward isn't, either...

But we're not alone. And some of that old gets to join us in the new...

Is joining us now... right beside each of us...

Well...

They _were_. Before they moved from their places like they were on fire to put out another they feared would erupt.

"Don't do that to him," I scold them–Emmett and Alice is the them–both, ignoring everyone's laughter at Jasper's predicament between them. The one I remove him from when I smack each of their covering-his-mouth-hands and knock them away. "Get back over there, both of you."

My brother sighs and shakes his head–at them, and maybe at himself for inspiring them–and then whispers a quiet _Thank you_ to me, sending the first tear down my cheek. A tear he reaches up and tenderly wipes away before looking at the minister expectantly. With nothing but that peace he mentioned inside of him. And nothing to say because it is.

Edward's face, in all of its beautiful glory, is proud. And that pride sends the second tear chasing after the first. Because he earned it... and every bit of how happy it makes me. So happy that the tears probably won't stop for hours...

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" the minister asks now, and I look at my brother, who looks at Edward–a long look–and then at me. At my face, and then down below it, to who and what rests just to the right of my heart..

My fingers tremble as I reach up with my empty, bouquet-less hand to open my locket, letting him see what he needs to in this moment that means so much to me. Even more than his moment of peace and silence...

The second of which he breaks now... "Charles, Ethan, and myself–her honored-to-be brother–Jasper Hale. _We _give her." And with those words, the dam holding back my now free-flowing tears. Which he doesn't even try to wipe away this time, instead, wiping his own as he guides me gently closer to Edward.

"I love you," he whispers, and kisses my tear drenched cheek before he smiles at me and takes his place beside his best friend. _After _he waits for Emmett to move aside so he can... _un_happily... which makes everyone laugh again.

And which is okay with me. Because there were too many tears in too many eyes and on too many faces. And, no matter what else it is to us because of who can't share it with us, this is a _happy _day.

And getting happier by the second. "Please repeat after me..."

_Yes, Edward... please do..._

"I, Edward, take you, Isabella, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have..." _Gaaaaah! _"...and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, to honor, and to cherish, until death do us part."

_You're going to be so glad you did..._

_So so so so so so so so so so so so so so–_"Isabella?"

_SOOOOOOOOOO_–"Yes?"

"Your turn."

_So glad! _"Yes, my turn... and I have waited so long to– I, Isabella, take you, Edward–man of my every dream–to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have..." _Seriously, GAAAAAH! _"...and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse–there will be none of that second part–for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, to honor, and to cherish, un–"

I stop because Edward clears his throat. A gentle interruption to tell me I forgot something.

Something I never agreed to say. And obviously something that he wants me to say so badly that he was willing to delay his pending _spoiling _my vows promise him.

And it makes me laugh. And the smirk on his face now makes me warm. And _willing_...

Because I wanted him. _All _him... and he's giving it to me. So to deny him would be... "To love, to honor, to cherish... and to _obey_..." _I'll never forget the way he looks now, either. Never... EVER... _"...until death do us part."

* * *

**Edward**

I truly am the luckiest man alive. I'm not even wearing the proof of it yet, but it couldn't be heavier on me.

On my heart and my mind...

That stopped battling each other so that I could have everything I never thought I deserved, especially after I knew I wanted it. Needed it. And couldn't–and wouldn't–live without it anymore.

Her.

Isabella.

The girl who loved me no matter what I was.

And who wanted to despite.

Because she knew there was a better life to be lived.

For both of us.

For me for obvious reasons... she's _her_...

But for her, too.

Because she knew she could make a man out of me. A real and a better.

A man who–long before I was any semblance of either–dreamed agonizingly of making a woman out of her.

Something she knows. Because I was honest with her about that, though without the details of.

And something that didn't make her love me any less.

And maybe made her love me even more because of. Because when I was honest about it, that honest confession also gave her one I didn't have to, though I had made that one, too. Many times in one way or another.

And that was just how hard the waiting for her really was for me.

The her she'll be before the sun comes up again.

The _woman _I'll make her. Because I did wait. And am making her what she most wanted to be.

My wife.

Or will, anyway...

As soon as Jasper gives me her ring.

Her wedding band, that Emmett–and even Sam–told me I was crazy to put in his hand. Because, no matter what else he's given me in the last few days, they weren't sure he would give _it _back. So that I could put it on her finger.

Isabella already holds mine between hers. Alice put it in her hand with no hesitation. But Jasper...

"How bad do you want it?"

_Asshole... _"Bad enough, I promise you," I tell him. "And I'm willing to do more than make that promise to prove it to you... if it's what I have to do... but we both know she won't like it if I do have to do that. Not that she'll be upset with _me _for it if–"

"I could scrap, too," Emmett announces, cutting off my whispered threat of sorts. And I have no idea what that means, but it doesn't matter because there's a weight in my hand now.

A light. And a delicate. And a pretty.

For the most beautiful girl in the world.

Who I will have the honor of making the most beautiful woman after I accept another. And give her what she thinks is hers... "With this ring I thee wed..."

* * *

**Isabella**

Edward's hand didn't shake when he slipped the ring on my finger.

And his other isn't shaking when I do the same.

Not so much as the slightest tremble or tremor with either movement.

He is strong. Steady. And sure.

And I have never been happier in my entire life about anything.

"And now, by the power vested in me by the state of Oregon, I hereby pronounce you... husband and wife. Edward, you may now kiss your bride."

And his hands are still strong, steady, and sure as they reach up to cup my face. Hold it between them as his lips curve into the most beautiful smile I've ever seen on any. And then take away the one I hope I mirror as they meet mine. Sweetly. Gently. Tenderly and patiently.

Like he's been for so long.

And will keep being for just a little while longer.

Before he doesn't have to be anything but him. His entire and his complete.

And all...

And forever...

MINE.

"Ladies and Gentlemen... Family and Friends... I present to you... Mr. and Mrs. Edward Masen."

**xx**

**Don't hate me. I know you wanted the other thing, too, but this is enough for this one. Says me, I know you probably don't agree at all...**

**And as for the details I didn't give you, either–we all know I suck at those–there's some pictures posted in my author fb group. Tell me to put you in it if you want to see them. Before I give you a few in the next.**

**If you stay to get them. I won't assume anyone will since you're all probably mad at me. Again.**


	4. Chapter 4: YET

**Yeah, not even gonna bother...**

**Chapter Four: YET**

**Edward**

How can one man be responsible for such beauty? Such pure joy? Such unabashed happiness?

How can I? For all of the stunning and breathtaking things I see on my wife's face? Simply because I made her?

I have a feeling I'll ask these questions a hundred times. A thousand. An endless number of in the lifetime I promised her. And, though I may never know how to answer them, I know that I will keep giving her reasons to make me ask.

"What are you thinking about? Right now while you're looking at me like that?"

"How I _always_ want to see you look like _that_. And know that I'm the reason you look it."

"You will."

"I'll certainly try to."

"Whatever makes you happy," she concedes, smiling sweetly.

"_You_ make me happy."

"I'm going to make you say that everyday."

"I believe you," I tell her, because I know her. And, because I do, couldn't possibly not know that what she said is true.

I _will _say it everyday. And be it. Feel it...

In little ways or in big, like on this one. The day she gave me the gift of her, and with that gift, an eternity of bliss.

A cyclical Heaven instead of the Hell I thought I'd been sentenced to. Here on this earth, anyway...

Accepting her gift has surely locked me out of it when I leave it.

But what's done is done. And I'm not and will _never_ be sorry for it. For doing what I have already and everything I'm yet to but will.

Yet...

Yet is here. And now. The beautiful proof of it is standing right in front of me. Like an angel in her flowing white dress...

She doesn't need wings to be one. She _is_. And more beautiful today than I've ever seen her. Not just because of how beautiful she looks in her dress...

But because of how _happy _she looks while she does. And _because _she does. And was given the chance to, which I know she thinks was a gift from me.

A belief of hers that I'm too proud that is to tell her it isn't.

And because I don't want to taint this day for her–or myself–by giving her a reason to slap me. Which she'd probably do if I did...

Instead of the much better than that thing she does now...

With her hands that reach up and untie the bow around my neck, that I don't think she's as fond of as the big one that topped our cake, that she did not, by the way, smash in my face, despite Emmett literally getting down on his knees and begging her to. Or the much smaller one that was tied around the deep purple calla lily bouquet she held in her hand as she made her adorably fast way down the aisle–delicately littered with petals of the same–to me. Or the ones that adorn the chairs we sat in as we ate our first dinner together as husband and wife after she'd reached her destination.

"Shouldn't we go somewhere first?" I ask her playfully as she lets the ends of the untied bow fall and moves her purposeful fingers to the top button of my shirt. "Home, perhaps?"

"It's choking," she tells me, after giving me a_ I can't wait to do that with you _smile.

That turns into a more devious one–though _shyly _devious, and accompanied by a luscious tinge of pink–as I smirk at her after murmuring a low "You have no idea, sweetheart... "

"Every part of you will be released from its choking misery, Mr. Masen, I promise... "

_Fuck..._

"... but for now, since we are _not _at home yet... I can only tend to my beautiful–well, your, technically, I suppose–choking _neck_." Which she now tends to by planting a _MY poor baby _kiss on...

And then another.

And another.

And yet another still, though with another something, too.

A something she couldn't help but to give me.

A gentle slip of her sweet tongue through her open-now lips.

That gives me a glimpse into her _when we get home_ vow...

Which...

_FUCK..._

And which tells me, no matter what she thinks I am now, that I'm still despicable for thinking that at this moment.

And which I will punish myself for by not asking her to do what I was just imagining her doing. To another part of me.

Well...

Won't ask her to do tonight, anyway.

Or tomorrow.

Or...

Well, for as many tomorrows after that I can find the strength to still not.

Before I can't anymore and beg her on my hands and knees to.

Something I won't be above doing or ashamed that I'm not... though I really don't believe I'll have to _beg _her...

And do believe that making a polite request or suggestion is all I _will _have to do. Because, while I don't believe she would deprive me of anything within the realm of reasonable, I don't know what her sweet, untainted–as much as it could be with Emmett and Rose around for most of her life–mind will think or know to do on its own, and without my trusted and honored-to-be guidance.

Which tells me to lead us away from where my mind is. NOW.

And take her to a sweeter place. And a softer. A softer of _her _choosing, which is to the _ours _of one of the many deep purple velvet couches that are the comfortable seating she wanted and had placed in the middle of this forest for our last moments not alone.

"So... " I start, once we're settled into that softness, "since I'm no expert at weddings, or the receptions that follow them, what obligations are we yet to meet at this that is so lucky-for-me _ours_?"

"None," she tells me with a gleam in her sparkling more than the glasses of champagne we were just handed by Alice eyes. "They've all been met."

"Isn't there some bouquet-tossing tradition?" I ask her, positive that she hasn't thrown hers yet.

"Not for me, there's not. I would never give mine up, and having a throw-away one made just to do so is stupid."

"So, you won't mind when I do away with a tradition too?" One that will happen over my dead body. Or anyone else's if they so much as bring it up.

"You can do away with anything you want. You already gave me every one that was important."

"I'm glad you think so, sweetheart, because no one is getting so much as a peek at–let alone the honor of touching–anything that you may be wearing under that beautiful dress but me."

"I suspected you'd feel that way about it... the exact way that _I _do... which is why I didn't even bother putting a garter on under my beautiful dress. Or buying one at all, actually."

_That's my girl..._

"Have I told you yet how perfect of a wedding planner you are?"

"Not out loud. But you didn't need to for me to know you thought it, even before I gave you the last reason to just now."

I'm glad I didn't...

Glad that she knows. That, even without the out loud words, I told her. And that she heard me or saw me do so. Or felt, like I want her to do now...

As I tell her with a kiss. On this couch that I wish was the one somewhere else. Or the other. So I didn't have to stop kissing her. Or hold back the way I want to.

_Soon, Edward..._

"You know, we really have done everything. And shared all that we need to."

Soon that I'm not the only one of us dying for.

"Are you saying you're ready to go?" I ask her, needing to be sure that I hear her correctly.

"Yes," she says, telling me I do. And that we've been more than generous with our time on our day. And with our _us_.

Which...

Well, wasn't easy at certain moments. Like when I stood by and watched Riley Biers dance with her. Watched _closely_...

But watched, nonetheless. Because I didn't say no when he asked. Because _she _didn't seem to mind his asking if she would. And, because I knew that if it wasn't for him, we might not have been here dancing at all. Together or with anyone else. Which was even less easy...

And which I knew _he _knew as he smiled at me as he led her to the wood-covered forest floor after our yeses. Mine of which she gave me the respect of saying _before _she said hers. And mine that made him smile first. A smile that was pure and understanding and nothing else. A _You'll always be welcome_ smile. And _lucky_, which his smile didn't have to tell me. _That_, I knew. At that moment and every one before it since the one he gave me. That moment, that until the ones of this day, was the greatest of my life.

Which is why I gave him his with her. Or his few, I suppose, since the song lasted a.

All of which he took like a gentleman, before he brought and gave her back to me the same.

Back to me to keep. Forever. With his heartfelt best wishes for ours.

That my beautiful bride wants to get on with.

"Well then, once again, _Trouble_, your chariot awaits."

She giggles as she hurriedly sets her untouched glass of champagne down, and then mine, and takes my hand and lets me pull her to her feet. Maybe for the same reason that my eyes are so wide. "Isabella... never has it been this easy to get you off of a couch."

"Well, Edward, that's because never before have you wanted to get me off of one to take me to a bed instead."

"That's not true at all," I confess guiltily, after the shock of her delicious explanation has worn off.

"Okay... I suppose you're right... so, how about this? Never before have you not only wanted to, but have _earned _the right to, take me from a couch to a bed."

"That's much closer to truth," I concede, because I'm too happy to argue her truth-to-her logic.

"And?" she asks, wanting more from me.

"_And_ I love you. For both your first explanation and your second. And for a million other reasons."

"You're going to love me for more when you stop stalling and take me to our bed."

_Jesus..._

"Once again, sweetheart... you have no idea... "

* * *

**Isabella**

As perfect as this day was, and as everything turned out, I couldn't wait to put it behind us. Or the part of it we had to share, anyway.

But wait I had to do, as did Edward, who I had no doubt couldn't, either. Because the goodbyes we had to say to those we were leaving behind at our perfect celebration took forever.

Mostly because of Jasper. And not just for the sweet reasons that were sweetly hard...

But because, for him, the longer that Edward _wasn't _hard, the better.

Seriously, that's why. My brother tried everything in the book. Every stall tactic and delay and excuse ever written. And when he'd exhausted them all, and–we hoped–himself, he got his second wind and wrote a new book. After which he did, and tried to 'read' to us, Sam held him down on one of the couches–at least he was comfortable–so that Alice and Emily could take turns beating him over the head with it. Or, more literally, with their bouquets...

And so, after a _Bless your hearts _(and hands) kiss to each of their cheeks, and a blown one, and an I love you to my ridiculous, flower-petal-covered big brother, we made our escape. Straight to Edward's Suburban. And to _it _because, even though he did offer me a real fairy tale style chariot, I told him that nothing could make my day more perfect than everything he already was and possessed. Something I meant with all of my heart.

Like I did the threats to all of our friends not to touch it with any stupid and tacky 'Just married' decorations or adornments. Threats that they apparently took seriously because it was indeed left in its original and perfectly unadorned condition. That Edward now guides along our long, winding through our forest driveway. To our house, that I've never seen until this moment, when it appears in beautiful and breathtaking more-perfect-than-I-ever-could-have-dreamed splendor in front of us.

"Edward... " I say, and _only_. Because I couldn't possibly form another word. One or a hundred that would or could describe what I see. And feel for why I do. And how...

Because it's what he created. From his thoughts and his visions and his marvelously talented fingers that brought them to life so that others could erect them. All for us, but that I know, as I stare in wonder and awe is, more than anything, for _me_.

Everything I ever dreamed but could never have imagined. A mixture of fairy tale fantasies and modern day dreams come true. A perfect storybook cottage... though on a much grander scale. A giant's scale.

And a castle... fit for a modern day King and his beloved and treasured young Queen. Built _just _for her, with that affection visible in every detail from the ground up to the top of the highest tower. Yes, _tower_. _There's really a tower!_

That I do want to be locked inside of... with _him_. My husband. The man who gave it to me. This... that I find words for suddenly. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen... next to you."

"And you can barely even see it. Wow. I'm humbled, sweetheart. Not to mention what I am about the other part."

I know he means because it's dark, the first part of what he said, but he's wrong because it's not at all. It's lit up like Disneyland at night. I can see everything. Every brick and every stone and every ounce of love that went into where they should each be placed. Whether to tuck me safely within them or lead my path to that safety by paving it beneath my feet. My feet that touch down on that path only briefly before I'm lifted off of them and into Edward's strong arms. Strong and _sure_...

Like "What you are about the other thing is fully and confidently _aware_," I say, making him smile. Which really just means smirk, being that he's my Edward. "Just like you are about how much I love you, and had to be about how much I would love this."

"That first part might be true, and the second... well, it definitely is, but the third... this... I was confidently hopeful, sweetheart, but not cockily so. I was too afraid of disappointing you by forgetting or not thinking of something important to be that."

"Impossible," I tell him. "You know me too well, and love me too much to do that. So, be cocky... because _I _know you didn't forget, or not think of, or miss a single thing. And probably remembered even more that I would never think of or even know I could want, let alone have.

"BE. COCKY, Edward. Because you made every dream I ever had come true today, and you still haven't stopped making them. Just like I know you still won't after we're inside these beautiful doors."

My god, how beautiful they are... two, heavy iron masterpieces of intricacy, in a deep shade of almost-black purple, stunning against the multitude of muted grays that surround it, and tucked in behind a familiar ribbon-tied bow that I think is wrapped around the entirety of this magical gift to me. "Can I untie it?" I ask him softly, and smile because I know his mind is still whirling, like he whirled and twirled me across our forest dance floor just an hour ago, with the last words I spoke.

"Of course you can, Isabella, it's _yours_," is his answer, though not the only one I hear. And feel... because his heart beats fast against me. So fast...

Like I pull at the ends of the bow before his arms fall off with me still clutched and cradled proudly and possessively within them. "That was a perfect bow, Edward. Did you tie it?" I ask him with a raised brow and another smile, because the silky material is the same that I, with his adorable help, tied around all of the chairs we sat in today.

"I did," he admits, pride on his face. "And of course it was perfect, I had a perfection-demanding-bow-tying teacher who would have been disappointed in me if it wasn't. And disappointing her... with my learned bow-tying skills, at least... well, that just wasn't an option."

"She's not disappointed in you for that or anything, I assure you. And knows she won't be... ever... unless these beautiful doors don't actually _open_."

He laughs now, because I'm being impatient, I think, and because I'm still trying to gather the once upon a time bow with only one desperately pulling and piling hand because I refuse to take the other from where it's clasped around his delectable neck.

"How about you drop that, beautiful? I know that you want to keep it, or you wouldn't be trying so furiously to gather it, but it would probably take all night to, and I was kind of hoping that we'd spend it another way. And that you'd be patient enough for me to come out and get it in the morning."

"Drop what?" I tease, letting it fall to its stone bed for the night, because there's another softer one waiting for me. That my husband wants to spend this night doing things in. As _we_...

"Good girl," he beams, and then makes a downward gesture with his perfectly messy bronze topped head, which he did not try to make _not _for this, our second wedding day. Because he knows how much I love it just the way it is, and will forever want it to be. _He's going to be so adorable when it turns gray... and is still sticking up all over– _"Isabella?"

"Yes?"

"The keys, sweetheart."

"What keys?"

"The keys to our doors? That are in my pocket under the handkerchief? That I told you were just seconds ago when you weren't listening? To me, anyway?"

"Sorry," I say, and giggle as I eagerly reach into said pocket. "I was just thinking to myself how handsome you are. And were today. And still will be in thirty years, when your hair is gray and... nevermind." _Note to self: Don't remind Mr. Perfect that he'll ever get old. Or older than he is now. When he's waiting to make a very 'young' me something else. _"Got 'em!" The 'em that are tied together with another–though much smaller–bow of deep purple silk. _God, I love him..._

Him, who opens his hand for them–something I only know he does because the curve of it leaves me–but it's buried beneath the seemingly endless flowy, fluffy fabric of my dress and I can't see it. So I, more eagerly even than the other thing just before, gather it frantically into my hand to free his from it and drop them into it. After having received, he turns the old fashioned iron keys in their respective locks and kicks open the doors. "Welcome to our forever, Mrs. Masen."

* * *

**Edward**

I couldn't have hoped for a better reaction when we reached the end of our winding drive and Isabella saw the home I'd envisioned for her for the first time. Her face was worth all of the words she was unable to say. She loved it, and me more for giving it to her. She even loved the bow I tied around it simply because I did. The bow that now sits in an untied and dropped and forgotten-for-me heap just outside of our front doors. Our front doors that I just carried her through and then kicked shut before setting her on her pretty diamond, pearl, and bow adorned feet. _That have to be killing her..._

So I crouch down in front of her–and them–and reach just under dress with the intent to help her out of them...

Of course, she doesn't understand that that's my intent at first, and raises a brow at me. Not an angry one, and maybe not even a completely shocked, but a curious, perhaps.

And if this were any other day, or night of, or any other moment, I'd probably toy with her a bit, but it's not, and I just can't bring myself to. "I was just thinking that your feet must hurt. And we're home now, where nothing can hurt them further if you take these pretty shoes off... "

"So, the first time your hands go up my dress is to help me out of my shoes?"

"It would appear so, beautiful." _Oh, how I've changed... _

"Such the gentleman you've become, Mr. Masen... "

"I hope that's a good thing, Isabella, because gentleman, or anything else I may be or have become... you're stuck with me now."

"_That_ is a good thing. The best thing ever, to be exact. No matter, just like you said, what you are. Which, at this moment, is _right_. My feet do hurt. They're killing me, actually."

She grips my shoulder for balance as I pull one shoe and then the other from her feet, resisting the temptation to reach back under her dress after I have. If ever she deserved or needed sweetness from me, instead of something else, I think it's now. And frankly, I don't want to ruin the moment her now-bare feet are having with the cool tile beneath them. So, I stand up and kiss her cheek instead, eliciting a sweet moan from her.

"I'm kind of hating Alice right now," she says out of nowhere.

Maybe the moan was for the tile? And not me at all? And maybe I'm being _too much_ of a gentleman... "Alice?"

"Yeah, _Alice_. Because now that those gorgeous things are off, I don't want to put them back on."

"Well, we're home, sweetheart, and staying, as far as I know. You don't have to put them back on."

"She told me I should."

"For?" I ask her with curious raised brows of my own this time.

"You. With the other thing I'm going to put on for you."

"Didn't we talk about this already? How you should only be talking to _me _about those things?"

"Well, I didn't ask _Jasper _about the shoes." We both laugh, because of what she did seek his advice about. And because the image of what he must have looked like at that moment will forever make me. "And I didn't ask her, she suggested it on her own."

"I don't want you to put the shoes back on, Isabella."

"Whatever you say," she says, with more conviction than she ever has before, and with a more pure and purely devious smile on her face when she does.

And I don't feel so sweet, suddenly. "Are you sure you want to say that to me today? Or tonight, more specifically? And here... where nothing and no one can stop me from truly hearing you say it?"

"Completely sure."

_God help you, Isabella... _eventually.

I smile at her, so she knows that I did, in fact, hear her loud and clear, and am happy about what I heard, before I say anything. And not about the 'anything'she said. Because, though she's been glancing all around us since I carried her through the doors, she really hasn't seen a single thing inside of this house that is ours. "So, would you like me to give you a tour? Or just follow behind you as you discover everything on your own?"

"Is show me our house really what you want to do right now, Edward? The house that is the _here_... where nothing and no one can stop you from hearing, or _doing_, anything?"

"You're making it hard for it to be. The thing I _should _do first."

"_Should_ do first? Should do first says who?"

"Emily Post, probably. With your brother's full support, I'm sure."

"If my brother had his way, you'd be showing me every brick and every stone and every blade of grass surrounding or beneath them first. And waiting for the daylight of tomorrow to do it. And it taking an eternity to do, once you started, so that you could never, ever, show me anything else."

"That's definitely what he'd want."

"Yes, except I don't care what he'd want."

"Me either."

"And, while I do care about this house, so much more than I may be showing you right now, I care more–most–about _you_. And what you want. What you _truly _want. So, the tour, or expedition, or whatever it will be can wait. And right now... first... you can just show me where our bedroom is. Well... and where my things are. Where you put the bag you brought in here for me today, most specifically, that you better not have peeked in when you did."

"Isabella... while I love and adore you for saying all of that... and promise that I did _not _peek... there's no rush, sweetheart. I've waited this long... a few more hours won't kill me."

"Maybe the hours wouldn't, but I might."

"You?" I laugh. "Why?"

"Because how long you've waited, Edward... has NOTHING on how long I have."

"Aaaah... "

She certainly has a point. An adorable and _sharp _point.

That I take before she finds a way to stab me with it. And take her hand, and, after locking our front doors, and flipping off the light directly above us, start to lead her through our house. Through the only parts I have to lead her through to get to the only part she wants to see tonight.

Because I'm the luckiest son of a bitch on earth. Which I know in another way when she suddenly breaks free from me and, holding her dress up so she doesn't trip on it, runs back the way we just came. To pick up her shoes from where I dropped them in our foyer. Before running back to me with a _I can't help it _smile.

"You're the perfect girl, Isabella Ha– _Masen_."

"Nice save, _Mr._. And thank you... but, if you don't mind, and I really am not worried that you do, what I really want now is to be the perfect _woman_."

PERFECT. Girl.

Who feels perfect in my arms as I sweep her into them again, and carry her up the stairs for the one and only time as a.

Because she doesn't want to be anymore...

And I'll never deny her anything she does want ever again. Here or anywhere.

* * *

I set her on her feet again when we reach our bedroom, because even though it's where she wanted us to be, I don't want her to feel rushed or pressured to be doing anything in it just yet.

I want her to take it all in... slowly and comfortably.

_Where _we are...the place she told me was important to her to be tonight.

And _what _we are... what she didn't have to tell me was.

And _how_. And how we're all because we were both patient. And determined. And strong. Stronger than any and everyone and any and everything else that tried to stop us or get in our way. Me included. Because she _was _stronger than I was when I did try.

Her eyes have been all over the room, and her feet have slowly followed them, so that she could get closer looks at the details and hopefully-pleasant surprises. We'll change anything she doesn't like, of course; I know I took a huge risk doing things this way... ultimately without her so that it could all be _for _her... and _from _me...

But so far I haven't seen anything on her face that tells me she anything but loves it all.

"The interior designer, while clearly the most brilliant one on earth, better not have been hot."

I laugh at her 'better not'. And at the look on her face now, that tells me I'll be wearing her handprint on mine if I don't answer carefully. And, most importantly, _correctly_, which ultimately just means in a way she wants to hear. She, who has her hands on her sweet little hips as she waits for that answer with an intimidating looking single quirked brow.

"Um... well... " I tease, though clearly only to my own amusement. Which I have to admit is greatened by what she's still wearing. Her sweet and beautiful dress...

And what she's still holding dangling from a single finger against her sweet hip. Her sweet and beautiful–but not only–shoes. That have deadly not-sweet heels. Which I'm sure is why her feet hurt. And which suddenly make me remember a certain scene of a certain movie in which a guy took a single stiletto to the eye. Another sharp point...

Not that she'd ever... she loves me–and my eyes–too much... but still... "Well, Isabella, since that 'designer' you speak of–or question with your delicate yet scary threat–was mostly _me_... you know I can't really say that. I mean, a lie or denial of truth of that magnitude... well, there's just no place for it in a marriage. Certainly not in ours."

"Agreed," she says, shaking her head at me and fighting a smile. "But, _Narcissus_, you said _mostly_."

"You're absolutely right, sweetheart, I did. And did consult with Esme on multiple occasions. Who, though is admittedly certainly an attractive woman, I would never refer to as hot."

"Mrs. Cullen helped you with our house?"

"With some details, yes. She's known you since you were a little girl–and adored, I might add–and she's a woman, of course, so I asked her if she would. Just in a few areas that I thought needed a delicate that I don't possess touch. Which she gave gladly."

"I bet she's wishing now that she hadn't."

"I doubt that, sweetheart. She knows her daughter. And you well enough that she'd never begrudge you a perfect day today, even if that meant it could only be without her, which, though I don't yet know what happened, I assume was the only choice you felt you could make."

"It was."

She looks down at the shoes in her no longer on her hip hand and shakes her head. "I definitely don't want to put these back on." And then looks back up at me. "Where's our closet?"

"_Yours_ is just through those doors," I tell her, gesturing to the double ones behind me.

"_Mine_?" she asks, surprised, and, I think, excited, too.

"Yes, yours. And one of the things I wanted that woman's touch on. Or in... "

"I'm just going to go put my shoes away," she says, as if having the excuse of her 'all things in their perfect place' compulsion is needed at this moment to simply be a girl.

"Have fun," I tell her as she kisses my cheek and rushes excitedly past me. While I pray that she loves me enough to come back out once she goes in.

Goes in and _squeals_.

_Damn you, Esme..._

And myself, of course. For wanting to give her everything she could ever want.

That may make her forget that she wants me.

* * *

I was willing to give my wants-to-be-a-woman bride her little girl moments...

As many as she wanted...

But the ones she did were few. The ones she took, at least. Because she meant what she said...

She didn't want to be a girl–a little or an all grown up–anymore.

Something she told me again as she walked back out of my special gift to her with her bag in her hand. The bag she'd given me to bring here for her–and told me not to peek inside of–earlier today, so that it would be already.

That was about thirty minutes ago, maybe forty. Right before she took it into our bathroom, which is really two, or divided into, at least, and which she hasn't come back out of yet.

I don't know what she's doing... if it's things she wants to, or things she thinks she needs to, or if she's doing nothing at all, while trying to talk herself out of being nervous about what _we'll _do...

I wish I knew. So that I would know if there was something _I _could do. Or should. Or should say.

I want to go to the door. Talk to her through it...

But I don't want her to think I'm pushing her. Or rushing. Because I'd never do either. If I have to wait another hour, or another ten, for her to come out, I will. And will do it gladly, just as long as she comes out happy.

As happy as I am. Which, if she wasn't her, I wouldn't be. And which probably wouldn't be possible. But she is... _her_... and...

Happily and beautifully so right in front of me now. And taking another walk towards, though a slower one this time. Another angelic vision in white...

Sweet, sweet white... with sweet, sweet bows... that _I'll _get to untie...

"I'm sorry if I took too long. And made you wait... "

"Don't be," I tell her. "Because what I see now... is worth a lifetime of waiting for."

"So, you know how _I _feel."

"I think I do."

"I think you're going to. _Know_. How I _feel_... finally... and... well, that... is definitely worth the lifetime I _did _wait for."

"I hope it will be, Isabella. For you."

"Have you met you?"

"Yes."

"And seen?"

I smile as she looks me over. Sees that all traces of my tux are gone. That I've changed, too. Readied myself for her. In every way that I could, in the time that she was doing the same for me.

Me, who can't stand it anymore. Standing still and waiting. For her to get to where I am. So that I can touch her. And "Every time I think I've seen the most beautiful sight I ever could... you turn around and show me that I haven't. And then that I have again. Surely, this time."

"Actually," she says, her lip quivering as my fingers trail down her cheek, and then her neck, and over her collarbone to trail even more slowly along the line of her shoulder, that is adorned with only a thin white strap of silk, "I do have something to turn around and show you. That I think you'll like... If that's okay?"

Has she met me?

"Of course it's okay. Because there's nothing I don't want you to show me. Absolutely nothing, Isabella."

She smiles at that... and turns a little pink... and bites her pretty pink lip... and then turns around. So that I can see the something. That she lifts her sweet babydoll something just a little to reveal...

_Jesus..._

My sweet, plump, juicy little rabbit... complete with a sweet and fluffy white tail...

That she watches me look at over her shoulder. Watches me grasp the meaning of, that I couldn't not have. And grasp _it_. Literally... though gently... that I couldn't not have done, either... because I'm me...

Which she really, truly does love completely...

And to torment...

"You're a brave little rabbit, Isabella... "

"I am. And all yours. And not in the least bit afraid of _snakes_," she says, continuing to torment.

"A brave little _lying _rabbit... "

"No I'm not."

"No? Would you like me to take you to tell Aro that? And give him the_ I'll miss you_ kiss goodbye that you forgot to?"

"There's only one snake that will ever get a kiss from me, Edward. And it's _here_, where I'll never have to miss it. And certainly won't be telling it goodbye, since I haven't even said hello to it yet. With a kiss or–"

"Please don't trust me enough to finish that."

"And why shouldn't I?" she asks me, turning around and telling me with beautiful, brave eyes that she does.

"Because I love you. And want to show you that in as sweet a way as I can. Instead of in a way that you finishing that will-kill-me declaration might provoke me to. Or want you to show me."

"I want you to show me everything. And not hold back telling me what _you _want to see."

The sound that just came out of me was one of purely and effectually tormented. And not a manly one. Not at all...

And makes her giggle. Sweetly. And then kiss me not.

Because she doesn't have to anymore. Definitely not here...

In our bedroom where she's telling me with her not-sweet kiss that there don't have to be rules. Now that yet has arrived, and after I followed all of hers so that it could.

Before she stops telling me anything with her sweet and not mouth and looks up at me with sweet, trusting eyes...

That tell me–plead with me–to take over. This moment and this night of ones yet to come.

And take over _her_. In whatever way I want. And in every way she wants to know exists.

So that's what I do. Trust myself to do as I pull her towards our bed. Before I sit down on it and pull her to stand in front of me. And issue my first instruction. "Turn around."

Which she accepts, and follows without hesitation. Or fear.

But does follow with curiosity, because she peers over her shoulder to watch me remove her sweet, plump, juicy little rabbit tail. With an anything but sweet from my mouth "I love this, and want you to wear it again someday," before my hand tosses it across the room to bounce off of and then land softly back onto a love seat.

"Okay," she says, and beams at me.

But I'm not sure what she does after, because my eyes fall back to where it isn't anymore. Her fluffy rabbit tail... to her sweet white panties that never met a sweetness-tattering shredder. And that are topped with a sweet white bow.

"I think I figured out what it is that you don't like," she tells me now as my fingers trace the edges of the silky fabric that covers her so perfectly. "What all of those things I showed you before had in common."

"You didn't need to," I tell her. "I wasn't worried... because those things aren't at all you."

"I'm glad that you weren't. Even though I might have screwed up by not asking you to look at them first."

"But you _did _ask me."

"That's because I wanted you to be happy."

"And _that's _because you're sweet."

"And you like sweet."

"No... I _love _sweet."

"Because I am?"

"Yes. And because you're perfect. My perfect girl," I say, and spin her back around, "who I know is waiting very sweetly and patiently, while looking perfect, to be my perfect something else."

She nods her beautiful head at me but does nothing more. And continues to stand patiently in front of me where I put her. And where my hands now start to feel her. And move over her. Up her more delectable than I ever imagined thighs... and above them... and behind... slowly and appreciatively over her perfect and perfectly covered ass... before fingering the sweet little bow just above it... and then her skin just above that... the delicate skin of her back... that I can't see but remember seeing once before...

On a different night...

On the night that I gave in to all that was her. And stood entranced by as she danced...

For me...

And then told me to listen...

To the words pulsing around us...

Like she did again tonight...

On a different dance floor...

The one in the middle of a lantern-lit forest...

Where she sang along with those words this time...

Telling me that_ 'she wants to own me. To control me._' And to '_Come closer... Come closer..._'

Close enough to get to this. This here. And this _right there_...

That is right in front of her. And right in front of me. And right between us.

A lantern-lit path of another sort. The sweet path of sweet little white bows that I begin to untie, so that nothing will be in the way anymore. Nothing but us. Nothing but the feel of each other. Like, first, my lips against her skin, that, with each pull of a tiny ribbon to expose, I leave a kiss to cover.

And, for now, other than those patient kisses that she feels, the _sight_ of each other. The first... _gift _of the sight of _her_... all of... that inch by inch, untied bow by untied bow, I am granted and bestowed the honor of. While she watches me... with no hint of wanting to stop. Because she doesn't want me to stop giving her that something to watch.

But it's not all I want to give her. Because what she's giving me is... "You're so beautiful... "

"So are you," she whispers through quivering lips, before she's seen a single thing but that I think she is. And how much I'm awed by the sight of her. That I can't for a moment take my eyes off of, once the bows have all been untied and I've all but bared her before me, and let the sweet, silky wrapping fall to the floor behind her. Beneath the pretty white, bow-topped wrapping that she still wears, for now...

And that I glance down past for a second. "Do you want me to pick that back up? Or can I forget about it... and everything else but you?"

She smiles, knowing what I'm referring to, and why I am, and gives me my answer. With a question "Forget about what?" After which she asks, she takes a small step back... giving me an extraordinary view of what's mine and about to be in every way... and crushing that forgotten thing beneath her feet, so that I have room to stand up and pick up what I never will or could ever forget. _Her_...

And then lay her gently on the bed. "So, so, so beautiful... " Before climbing onto it with her. And above. While her heart beats furiously beneath my eyes, and my fingers that sweep the always-silk-and-sweetly-strawberry-scented hair from her face. "I love you, Isabella."

"I love you too."

God, do I know that...

That her words are true. Solid and unyielding. And untainted by my faults, that she climbed over to get to me. Crushed beneath her pretty feet on her way, so that they wouldn't be in ours.

Like she thinks something else is, perhaps, as she starts tossing pillows to the floor. Pillows that are many, because I topped our bed with. And pillows that I help toss out of the way because I did. Until there are only the ones that we're meant to lay our heads down on left. That her eyes tell me she wants to do now, in that way that we will. That makes me slip the bedding from under her so that she can feel our sheets beneath her instead.

But still she doesn't seem completely content. And eyes my t-shirt. "Can I ask for something?"

"Here, always," I tell her. In a way that I think she understands, even if she doesn't, or have any real idea of, all of the things she could ask for.

"Well, there's one lesson out of the way," she says with a smile, "Now we just have your shirt."

_Aaaah..._

But... "If you think we only have my shirt, sweetheart... " I tease, "then you're in for a big surprise."

"I am fully aware of your _big surprise_, Edward... " she teases back, "because, _wrapped _it may have stayed, but unnoticed it NEVER did."

"It couldn't," I admit. "Any more than I could not notice–and surrender to–YOU."

"I want you to surrender your shirt to me."

"I want you to take it."

Her deep brown eyes go darker right before my own differently shaded, and it sends a surge of want through me that threatens my do-this-right will. "You liked hearing that," I declare confidently, like she has so many times to me.

"I did," she admits, her dark gaze dropping downward, and her fingers grazing my skin as she grips the bottom edge of my shirt. "And you liked saying it," she adds, just as confidently.

Because, as she pointed out just a minute ago, what I am never goes unnoticed by her.

I don't respond, though it's hard not to (no pun intended), with anything but a _I can't help it with you _smile, that, though changes into a proud one, doesn't leave my face as she slowly and delicately rids me–and herself–of my shirt.

"Anything else you want?" I ask her, teasing again.

And her response nearly kills me. "Yes, I want _everything_."

Because it's given innocently. And purely. And with so much trust...

That puts me back on the right path. A for-her sweeter...

That I take my first step down with a kiss to her sweet mouth. Gentle and tender at first... while I let just a little of my weight settle onto her. Because I know she likes that... loved it the times that I got greedy or careless and did. Teased us both with what was to come, but always, before now,_ not yet_.

Before now that isn't...

And that she tells me she's glad for, as she pulls me closer. Down on her heavier and harder... crushes herself beneath all that is me. All that I'll _let _her...

Because, as much as I want to give it to her, my all... I want to give her the last shreds of patience that I have left first.

With sweet kisses to her face...

Her forehead, and her nose, and her eyelids...

Her cheeks, and her chin, and then, again, her not-afraid-to-tell-me-what-she-wants mouth. "Kiss something new, Edward. Please."

_Oh, I will, my beautiful bride..._

But don't do it right away. And move my lips slowly over the places I'm painfully familiar with.

Her jaw, and her neck, and her collarbones... the furthest my lips have ever been, though barely and rarely...

Before, for the first time, kissing lower. The something new she wanted... the first of everything waiting to be discovered... and adored...

Her perfect nipples harden before I even reach them. In anticipation and pure happiness that I'm getting close...

With nothing in the way this time like the first, and the many after... when I swept a teasing kiss across them while they stayed hidden and protected by layers of wrapping...

That I never even tried to remove after that first time. Or let her, on the few occasions that she wanted to. And said she could and would for me... and for herself, I know. Because that first time told her something she didn't know...

And told me. That her beautiful, firm, and perfectly perky breasts are sensitive.

"Ooooh!"

Like she just did...

As my kisses finally reached the first of them. And my determined-to-be-gentle hand, the second. And her hands reached my hair, abandoning the sweet caresses up and down my bare back.

I don't know what's better... the way her fingers feel in my hair and on my scalp...

Or the way her pleasure-filled whimpers sound to my ears...

Or the way she...

What am I saying? I _do _know. It's the way she tastes. Her skin, yes, but not only. Because I can taste so much more...

Her trust. Her love. Her want. And her building need...

All in this gift she's given me. This gift of herself, that she's never given to any other. And never wanted to. It's always only been me, and for. Who truly does want to give her everything I can. All of the love, all of the respect for her and for hers, all of the pure joy and happiness...

And, as I hear her whimpers get louder with each swirl of my tongue around each of her nipples, because I'm back and forth between them like a ping pong ball, unable to choose a favorite...

Or each gentle–mostly–suck of them into my growing-greedier-by-the-second-mouth...

All of the _pleasure_.

Pleasure I've never wanted to, let alone ached to, give to anyone else.

But she's not anyone else...

She's the girl I love and have loved forever. Long before I loved her this way... and wanted to in _every _other way that there is.

She's _Isabella_. Isabella, my _wife_. And will be treated in every special way that I can possibly think to do or show her. And she will be _now_. A first for me before I let her give me the ultimate of hers.

A first she doesn't think she wants... or know yet that she can or should... or will love, I pray...

Because she loves what I was just doing and doesn't love that I stopped doing it. That my lips and tongue left her breasts to go elsewhere. "Go back, Edward, please... Go back and never leave again... "

"I will, I promise," I tell her, in a soft whisper against her stomach. That covers it with adorable little pleasure-shaped bumps. And that stops her protests and pleas...

And turns them to whimpers again. Sweet Isabella whimpers... that sound like a song... the most beautiful one I've ever heard... because only I have. And only I ever will.

Will and will want to forever, now that I have. Have had the privilege. And the honor. To be worthy of her and of this. This all of her...

That I will know before this night is over. Because she'll let me.

With beautiful, innocent, and pure shock on her face. Like now, when I gently grasp the top of her sweet panties between my fingertips and pull, sliding them slowly over her hips. Her hips that offer no resistance, I might add, and maybe even a little help.

I see the question in her eyes as I look up at her, knowing she's watching me. And instead of asking it out loud, like I think she wants to do, she bites her lip. So that she can't. And can't be, like she may be afraid of, disappointed by the answer I might give. Because she's heard many times answers from someone else, and me with most of those, lumped in with their stupid, proud selfishness.

So I give her a different one. And the only one that _I _would ever let her hear. "Don't you know yet that you're special to me?"

And, once again, she doesn't answer me or say anything out loud, but she moves her feet, just a little, and her now-trembling legs above them, just a little farther apart than they were, and then holds her breath.

So adorably that I think I literally melt. Before I regain my focus–solid as can be–to make _her _melt, before I make her anything else. "Don't hold your breath, sweetheart, because I want to hear you when I taste your saved-for-me sweetness."

Her mouth falls open at my words...

And maybe a little, too, because mine falls to her right after they've left it.

And instantly falls in love...

_My god... _

_She _does _taste like heaven._

_And sound..._

_The way it must._

And the way she will always want to, I think. Because the way she sounded before... when my mouth was somewhere else... is a long and happily forgotten by her sound.

And feeling. Because she has a new favorite. And isn't too shy to tell me that she does. Between gasps and moans and sweet, angelic whimpers, of course. "Forget... what I said... before...

"I didn't mean it... didn't know any better than to think I did... "

And I laugh...

Deep and proud and _against_ her...

"Oh, God, I didn't know!"

Before she's unable to utter anything coherent at all, let alone remember what she wanted to. But what she doesn't have to because _I _know what it was. I, with my mouth and my lips and my happy-to-stay-right-where-it-is-for-that-forever-s he-wants-now tongue. That seems to have a mind of its own. A mind that knows what to do even though I didn't think I had a clue...

Any more than I wanted to do this thing for her. And for myself. Before I did another. That another that she expected. And was ready for. And not too shy to tell me that she was.

Me, her finally-a-real-man husband. Only for her. Who surrenders herself to me completely. And completely mind-numbingly sweetly. In a way I feared would be next to impossible on this night of firsts.

Before I put her.

* * *

**Isabella**

Oh. My. God.

No...

Oh. My. _Edward_.

Which is the same thing, really...

The...

Well, I don't know...

Like I can think right now?

About anything?

But that I want him to do that thing again...

That...

That thing that can't possibly have a name...

Because none would do it justice...

Hmmm...

That's not true, actually...

One would. _Masen_.

The name he gave me. Before he gave me that...

That...

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!

Masen! Masen! Masen! Masen! Masen!

That's what I'm calling it.

From now on.

Because I think I'll have other chances to after now.

Because I don't think I was the only one of us who liked it.

He liked it, too.

A lot, I think.

It sounded like he did, anyway. I wasn't the only one making_ I've discovered heaven on earth _noises.

He was too.

And didn't stop discovering it once he had.

Didn't stop until I had discovered a better one.

That I shared with him.

And more than just with his ears. So much more than with them...

That I hope he can still hear out of and with.

Hear me... "I love you so much... You're the best husband ever. In the history of husbands, you are... the... best... "

With the best tongue. The best mouth. The best lips...

That make their way back up from where they came...

Torturously slowly...

Up my still-fluttering stomach...

My still-fluttering everything...

To my... "Ooooh... "

I never want to wear a bra again. Or a shirt. Or anything...

But his mouth.

Seriously...

I NEVER do.

Want to wear anything. Ever again. But him.

My perfect, beautiful, _loving _husband.

Who I should probably thank for being. Thank until I lose my voice. That was given new life today. New sounds.

A whole freaking soundtrack of its own... literally, _of_...

And his sweet accompaniment.

That he doesn't stop because I asked him not to. Sort of...

When I told him to go back to that place where he is and never leave...

Before he promised he would...

And before he kept that promise...

And did...

And...

And I'm being selfish. And have to stop. _Want _to stop. "Edward?"

"Hmmm?" He looks up at me but doesn't stop keeping his promise. Because you don't need your mouth to look at a person...

And I love him for it, but... "Come up here."

I pull on him so he knows that I mean it. That I want him to leave where he is...

And when I've pulled him up far enough–because he's let me, because it's what I wanted–I kiss him. And myself, I realize. My newly awakened by my new husband self.

My new husband who looks _surprised_, when our lips part and our eyes meet again.

_What did I do? _"Am I not supposed to do that? After what you did to me?"

"There are no 'supposed to's, sweetheart. I was just surprised that you did, that's all."

"So was I... at the thing that you did."

"A good kind of surprised, I hope?" He asks his question as if he's unsure... but I know he's not. AT. ALL.

And just wants his ego stroked, I think. And probably his... "The best kind. Better than I ever could have imagined."

I see his head swelling right before my eyes... and feel something else... "You liked hearing that," I say, like I have so many times to him, and like he did to me a little while ago for the first time. Before he _did _something to me for the same. And not the first for just me.

"I did," he says, with a smile on his lips and a want in his eyes.

A want for more... _from_ me... "Do you want to be a good kind of surprised now?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure when I said I do today that I ensured a lifetime of that for myself... but what do you mean, beautiful?"

_I promise you did, Edward... _"I mean isn't it my turn? To do something to you?"

* * *

**Edward**

Was her question tempting?

Of course it was.

But it was also sweet. And innocent. And reminded me, not that I needed anything to, how much she's both of those things.

And how much she trusts me with them. Those things about her that I love, even though I want to take them away... sort of...

So "No, sweetheart."

"No? But–"

"Well, more _not yet_. Not that it's about taking turns... or that I want you to ever think that it is or has to be... I don't. And I also don't want you to take one tonight. Or give me."

"But isn't that your favorite thing?"

The fact that she thinks that... was ever given reason to... and to ask it...

Doesn't make me happy at all. Or deserve for her to want to make me.

"_You're_ my favorite thing, Isabella."

She smiles at me, but it isn't whole. Because she thinks she's said something wrong. Something she shouldn't have. And something to ruin this...

This night that means so much to her...

And when she bites her lip, convinced of it, I don't hesitate for a second to reach up and pull it free. "And I don't want you to do that, either."

"What _do _you want me to do?" she asks, not sure at all now about anything.

"I just want you to love me."

"I do."

"And let me love you."

"I'd never try to stop you from doing that."

"And let me make you my wife in every way."

"And sure as hell not _that_."

_My god, she's precious... _

And I can't wait to know truly just how much. Can't wait _anymore_...

And kiss her again. With her precious on my lips. And on my tongue... not letting me forget...

Or her that I know she is.

And wanted to. Know _everything _about her...

That I didn't know already...

And love already...

Love so much...

Like her sweetness, that I can taste on her tongue and feel in her delicate touch on my skin.

And her fearlessness that comes out when she knows she's safe. And with someone who would live or die to keep her.

Something that comes out now...

Because she knows she is. And wants to know everything else...

Like what I _feel _like...

More than what I felt like beneath her or with her beneath me when feel me that way was all she could do.

And all that I could let her, though more than I should have.

Then, not now.

Because now no one's telling her no or to be careful. And she doesn't have to tell herself.

And I sure as hell don't tell her either...

Because I'm only human, after all.

And because her soft touch is gentle and sweet. Just like it was before I felt it but knew I would...

When I felt her _You're all mine now_ hands slowly push my pajama pants over my hips. And then my boxers. So that she could feel everything there was to beneath them.

Which, if I haven't mentioned it... _FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!_

I never knew a touch could be so soft.

And so completely disintegrate my brain and any function it ever possessed.

Something that–because God help me, I can't help it–I have to see her accomplish.

See what I feel...

And don't have to just imagine anymore.

_See _her touch me. Wrap her hand around... and move it slowly but sweetly unsurely up and down...

"Isabella... my god, sweetheart... "

She doesn't say anything to my half-said, and her hand around me stills, so I tear my eyes from it to look up at her face...

And see that it's attention is fully on where mine just was.

Though maybe in a slightly different way. And for a slightly different reason.

Because her eyes are unslightly wide. And she's biting her lip again. In a way that makes me chuckle just a little. Because it's adorable. The it that is her worry... and her less than fearless now fearlessness, perhaps. Now that she's seen something, too.

"Don't be scared," I tell her when she looks back up at me. "You know I love you. More than _anything_ else. And that I'd never hurt you. And I promise you, these things have a way of working themselves out, no matter how impossible that may seem. Or _look_."

She doesn't look like she believes me at all...

But she nods her head. And releases her lip. And says "Okay." And "I trust you."

And doesn't look down again. Because my face, and the love for her that covers it, is all she wants to see now.

My face that I inch closer to hers. Lower back down to. And my lips to hers again, with tender strokes of my fingers to her cheek. And her silky hair, that's feathered out around her. And then her shoulder. And her arm... that once they reach her hand at the end of, she whimpers to tell me they passed something up. Something higher up... that I reach back up and stroke tenderly... both...before making my way down again... over her ribs and down her stomach... over her hip and down her thigh... all her rights... before making my way back up the inside of it... until I find what I'm looking for. Her returned fearlessness. Because she trusts me. And _wants _me. Is so deliciously soft and wet with how much she does...

And how ready she is...

"Edward... "

For me to make her, in this special to us both way, my wife.

Something she lets go of me so that I can do. With sweet trust in her eyes and her sweeter hands now on my face.

As I slide as slowly and as sweetly as I possibly can inside of her.

Inside of a heaven I never even came close to imagining.

While the sweetest tears that have ever fallen from any pair of eyes slip slowly down her cheeks, while words every bit the same slip from her lips and onto mine. "I love you so much."

And her legs slip around my hips like an exclamation point at the end of. And then she moves them higher... adding another... and pulling me in deeper... before they tighten... with so much fearless strength... and so much selfless love... because I know I'm hurting her... no matter how hard I'm trying not to... I _know _that I am.

And that she knows that I won't forever... and wouldn't at all if I could not. And loves me for being willing to now... to let her hurt... for just a little while... for me...

So that I can give her everything.

Every bit of me.

That will love every bit of her... "I love you, too, sweetheart. So much... "

On this night and for the rest of my life.

**xx**

**I have no expectations (though am dressed in a suit of armor), so let it fly. I can take it. I hope.**

.


End file.
